#i just...cannot get this idea out of my head
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Oh my gosh— someone who writes for nam-gyu? Am I dreaming?! I CANNOT find any fics of him!! Need headcannons about him rn😩 I feel like that man would enjoy making you cry and upset, like he would grin and laugh while doing so. (Cough— Hatefuck—cough..) Just need headcannons about that man so bad😩🫣
This is actually my first time asking, so I really don't know what to say🥲 but I hope you consider this🫶🫶🫶
-🌟anon
warning | nsfw content
word count | 0,6k
a/n | thank you so much for your request luv! I hope I could write something as you wanted
!he's had mixed feelings from the moment he first saw you. hate? anger? like?
oh no, not like. he just hates you so much that he wants to fuck you until you know your place.
"fucking bitch."
"huh?" thanos looked at him incomprehensibly, about to turn his head to you, but nam-gyu quickly changed the subject "nothing."
!he's insanely jealous of thanos👀 even if you don't respond to his flirting, seeing a man next to you makes him angry enough. at least it gives him a reason to make you cry more.
!he should be the only one who annoys you. if he sees someone picking on you, he'll quickly intervene, at first he'll protect you from that person, but then...
"are you too stupid to not protect yourself? no. don't even think about crying." his emotionless voice makes you tremble as he watches you quickly wipe your tears away "good. don't you dare unless I make those tears flow."
!he likes to tease you until you cry because he thinks you look so beautiful with tears in your eyes. If you turn your head and try to hide your face from him, he will forcefully grab your chin and make you look at him with your eyes full of tears. you will see that he is trying to calm down by taking a deep breath because oh...you have no idea how horny he is.
!If he can't sleep at night, he will come to your bed and bother you. If he can't sleep, you can't sleep either. but strangely, talking at night is when you get along the most. guess you are both too tired to argue, but that doesn't mean he won't say a few things about you.
okay, now please hear me out..
!this man is completely clingy when he loves you, but he is also hard when he fucks you, I can't say he doesn't like slow sex, but when he can fuck you like crazy, he doesn't really think about the other option.
!I say clingy because he can never be comfortable if his hand is not on your body in some way. he has to touch you in some way so that he feels better. when you least expect it, you may find his hands on your waist pulling you closer to him "mm...look who's here?"
!If we talk about life outside of the game, you can become his only world. yes, he likes to make you cry and upset. but only you. the others have never caught his attention and they don't. he still thinks you have the most beautiful tears.
!I can't say he's very loud in bed. he'll mostly let out short gasps and short moans. he likes listening to you more, whine for him and he'll make you see stars.
!he likes to tease you and make you cum so much that you cry from sensitivity. when you beg him to stop, he just puckers his lower lip in a mocking tone.
"aw.. does it hurt? what should I do?" he leans into your ear while his fingers, which don't stop, hit the inside of your pussy hard while you just had your 3rd orgasm "Is that all you can take? c'mon.. you can give me more, hm? ah..yes don't hide your voice from me, fuck-"
!he'll run his hand over you while you're sleeping at night, sorry not sorry. when you open your eyes and notices how his fingers are expertly tangled in your wetness, he'll smirk and say "you awake? good. now you better spread your legs for me and be loud as possible."
he's obsessed with you in some way, romantic or not, and he has no plans to leave your side.
#squid game imagine#squid game x reader#squid game imagines#squid game smut#nam gyu imagines#nam gyu x reader
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hello! great work so far :-) im getting into batfam myself and been loving the platonic/familial works you do w littlest wayne! was wondering if you'd ever do an teen y/n or just an older one? I'd love to see you tackle the idea of a robin y/n or jaybe just some angsty kid stuff,,,,,, hope you had a good new years!
-- :33Anon
I love angst with my whole heart and soul, and I'm happy to write it with a slightly older Reader. Hope you don't mind I've commandeered your prompt to showcase the ability you guys voted on.
This one's a long read so I'm splitting it up. This part is roughly 2400+ words.
The Littlest Wayne: Uncertain Home
(Part 1/2)
Masterlist is Here!
Uncle J'onn is looking at you curiously.
He's been doing that a lot, lately. When Daddy brings you to the Watchtower to be babysat so he can go save the world, one of his co-workers that they can afford to spare gets put in charge of keeping an eye on you. Usually it's Uncle Hal, but this time it's J'onn and he's in his natural form, which you don't mind. Green is your favorite color, and his whole body is green! He's nice and calm, and tells you lots of stories and plays any game you want, even if it's hard for him not to cheat and read your mind. He says it's instinct. You don't hold it against him because you still have fun.
Lately, though, when he talks to you, he tilts his head a bit. He usually does that when he can't understand something.
You wipe your face, checking for cookie crumbs. All clean. You search your shirt for any weird marks or stains. All clean. You scrunch your nose and puff out your cheeks, pouting.
"What's wrong, uncle J'onny?" You ask him. Daddy says the way to get honest answers from someone is just to be forthcoming (Dicky told you what forthcoming meant when you asked him later), so you are. "Did I do something wrong?"
That seems to snap his train of thought. J'onn shakes his head and goes back to sorting out the jigsaw puzzle pieces for you. You're good enough at this to do 100-piece puzzles, now, and when you get really stuck you don't even cry anymore!
"Nothing is wrong, Flittermouse," he says, watching you start putting the edges together first like Dami taught you. "You are simply...changing. Differences are not inherently wrong."
"What's inherably mean?"
"Inherently. It means instinctively, or something that is "set in stone." A rule that does not change. I am stating that change is not something that is always wrong. It's not a firm rule."
You pout and try to process all of that in your brain. It was a partial answer. Daddy says that means people might want to hide something from you.
"What's changing?" You ask him. "I got older a week ago. Is that what you mean? I'm four, now. Grandpappy says I'm getting so big and growed up. He says to not do that so fast. I dunno how, though. He's silly."
J'onn hums. His eyes look away from you as he considers what to say. You put one whole edge together before he speaks again.
"You know that I am not a human, correct?"
"Yeah, I know," you say. "I don't care. I love you. And auntie Diana. And uncle Clark. And uncle Barry. And —"
"Thank you," J'onn gently interrupts. "Do you also know that, sometimes, humans are born not entirely human? That sometimes they get special abilities?"
"Yeah, I know that," you repeat.
"I suspect that —" he cuts himself off, hesitates, then starts again. "Little one. You are showing signs of being one of those humans with special abilities."
"I am?" You ask. You perk up. "Can I fly?!"
You immediately abandon the puzzle and climb onto your chair, about to jump off of it to try and fly around, but J'onn catches you by the back of your shirt before you can hit the ground.
"You cannot."
"Aww...then I don't wanna be a megahuman," you complain, stomping your foot.
"Metahuman."
"Whatever."
"I am sorry," J'onn says, "I did not mean to upset you. I do think you are developing powers, however."
"Not fly powers?" You frown.
"No, not flight powers."
"Boring," you say, blowing raspberries. J'onn cracks a smile at your antics and you giggle. "Help me do the puzzle, please!"
"Alright," he relents, sorting more pieces for you. You're both quiet for a while, and you get the whole frame done before he speaks again.
"Little one. Do you know your father's rule about metahumans?"
"Yeah," you say, grinning, because you're a great listener. You pitch your voice down and make it scratchy. It's adorable in your four-year-old tone. "No metas in Gotham. I am Nighttime. Raaahhh."
J'onn huffs in amusement. "Right. He usually means what he says, does he not?"
"Yeah," you agree, "daddy is a bad liar. He lied and said he didn't eated the last cookie once, but he did eated it. Alfie was mad, 'cause it was for Dami, but Dami didn't care. He likes brownies more than cookies. I like brownies, too."
"I figured," J'onn says. He's not looking at you again. This time he's frowning.
"Do you want brownies?" You ask, figuring that was the issue. "I don't have any. I can ask for some when Daddy comes back. I'm good at sharing, 'cause I'm a good noodle, like Jay says."
"No, but thank you for offering to share. Jason is right, you are a good noodle."
You preen. "I know!"
J'onn drops the subject again and helps you complete the puzzle. You squint at every piece in concentration and politely ask him if he can dim the lights so you can work better. He complies, and after another hour and a half, you have a completed image on the table.
"Yay! We did it!"
The sounds of chatter and footsteps appear down the hall moments later, and you spring to your feet in delight.
"Hello!!!" You shout.
A chorus of "hello!" greets you in return from multiple heroes, and the rest of the Justice League files into the room one by one. They don't look too roughed up, so the mission wasn't very dangerous. That's good. You stand by the door and offer them hugs. Everyone complies, to your endless delight.
"Daddy!" You cheer when you see him, running and hugging Batman's legs. He scoops you into his arms and you grin and point at the table. "Uncle J'onny and I dided a whole puzzle! I didn't give up!"
"Good job, Mouse," Bruce says, reaching out to adjust the light. "You did it in the dark?"
"Yeah," you grin, kicking your feet. "Did you punch bad guys?"
"I did."
"Did you win?"
"Yes."
"Can we have ice cream?"
"Maybe after dinner." He carries you down the hall and towards his temporary quarters, the place he'll stay after a particularly tough mission when he can't make it home right away, and deposits you gently on the bed. "I have to debrief with everyone, and then we can pack up and go home."
"Okay, daddy," you say, already digging through the nightstand for a toy to play with. "I stay right here!"
"Good job," he says again, kissing the top of your head, and leaves you alone with a small wave.
--
The next time you need to be at the Watchtower, it's with Uncle Clark and Auntie Diana. The mission wasn't a super dangerous one, so they both got to stay behind and entertain you.
Today, you're a cashier at your world-famous grocery store. You have the best ingredients all over the world.
"Welcome to the groshy store, what do you want stranger?" You demand, getting into character. Clark looks mildly offended.
"Whoa, hello. That's a lot of 'tude for a paying customer," he says.
"You didn't buy nothing yet! Whataya want!"
"Uh. Some carrots please."
"All out."
Clark narrows his eyes at you. "Can you check in the back?"
You turn around. You turn back.
"All out. Whataya want!"
"You barely looked!" He insists.
"FRESH OUTTA CARROTS, BUB. WHATAYA WANT."
"Oh my goodness, now there's yelling. I think I need to speak to a manager."
"Okay!" You shuffle across the room and grab Diana's hand, leading her back to Clark. "This is the manager. Auntie, tell him all the carrots are gone. He can't have any."
Diana covers her mouth to stifle her laughter. "You heard them, stranger. There are no carrots here."
"Well, aside from the blatant nepotism, auntie, I think you're hiding the carrots from me," Clark huffs, crossing his arms. "I need them for my soup. Guess I'll go to the grocery store across town. I hear they're nicer."
"No," you gasp, "wait. Okay maybe I have one secret carrot. I go get it."
You leave their giggling forms and run over to the toy box that was set up for you on the watch tower, thrusting your hands inside to dig around. You squint your eyes, but all the bright colors are hard to distinguish properly. In the dark spaces, deeper into the box, is where you cast your focus. Instinctively, you follow the trail and close your hand around a plastic carrot. You lift your hand triumphantly.
"Okay, got it!" You cry, only to startle when you find both Clark and Diana kneeling beside your toy chest. Diana picks you up around the waist and takes several steps back, and Clark's eyes turn that funny shade of blue they do when he's using x-ray vision. "Umm, I gotted the carrot already. It's in my hand."
"Are you injured?" Diana asks you, expression deadly serious. You frown and shake your head. "You're certain? I could sense something in that box with you."
"No, I'm fine," you promise. Clark stands up and his eyes go back to normal. He shrugs, brows furrowed.
"There's nothing in there but toys."
"Yeah," you nod, "toys and dark spots."
Both heroes look at you. You squirm in Diana's hold shyly.
"Um, want to pay for the carrot?" You ask, holding it up. "It's only ten dollars. Orrr one lollipop." You whisper conspiratorially. "I can be bribed."
Diana and Clark exchange glances. Clark gingerly takes the carrot from you and puts it back in the toy box.
"Sold. Let's go to the kitchen and pick out which flavor you want."
You grin, forgetting about the game, and Diana puts you on the ground so you can follow excitedly after them. With a couple "pretty please's" and your lethal puppy dog eyes, you even manage to get two lollipops. You ask to be hoisted onto the counter so you can swing your feet as you enjoy the candy, and both heroes perch on either side of you.
It's quiet for a while. It feels like that weird, anticipatory quiet you felt with Uncle J'onny, but you don't know what for, so you wait for one of them to speak. You finish off one whole sucker and open the second one when it happens.
"Mouse?" Clark eventually asks, "can you explain what you meant about your toys? That there are dark spots in there?"
"Yeah," you say, "shadows. Dark spots. Light not touching."
"And you can...feel shadows?"
You hum, thinking it over. "Um...yes. Kind of."
Clark and Diana look at each other again. They're frowning. You frown.
"Can you tell us what you mean by that?" She asks.
"Um. I wanted the carrot, for uncle Clark," you say, "so he can buy it at my groshy store. And the dark spots showed me where it was, and I grabbed it."
"Did they also help you complete the jigsaw puzzle, when you were with J'onn?" Diana asks. "It was quite dark when we got back." You nod.
"Yeah. Easier to do in the dark. It's not cheating!" You blurt. "I didn't cheated!"
"Okay, ya' didn't cheat," Clark agrees, gently patting your back. There's a slight drawl in his words which usually shows up when he's stressed out. "We're just curious, is all, darlin'. Seems you've got a... A special talent, we can call it."
"It's a power. They're a metahuman, Kal," Diana says simply, "and you know Bruce's rule."
The rule? Which one? Always brushing your teeth before bedtime? Or maybe no sweets until you finish your dinner? Hmm, but you haven't had dinner yet. That doesn't make sense.
"No metas in Gotham. I'm very aware, Diana."
"Then you see the problem."
Oh. Now you think you know why uncle J'onny was upset that day.
"Now wait a minute," Clark says. He looks genuinely angry, which confuses you. Did they not like that you could ask the dark for help? They had superpowers, too. You figured they would be happy. "They're his kid."
You are. You're Daddy's little Flittermouse, scampering around and bringing joy. That's what everyone tells you. They love you.
"You've seen how hard he works to keep us out of Gotham," Diana says. "We can be trusted to babysit, but we can't enter the city? What does that tell you?"
"That's different. He's territorial, we all know that. He's not a monster, Diana. He would never hurt them —"
"I'm not saying he is. I'm not saying he would. But I am saying that he doesn't bend his own rules. He does not make exceptions."
Oh.
You sit almost numbly on the counter and watch Clark and Diana start to argue over your place in Gotham. Over your place at home.
You think about Daddy's rule about no metas in Gotham. You think about your new ability to interact with shadows.
Oh.
The lollipop tastes like ash on your tongue and the tips of your fingers feel like tv static. When you blink, your eyes sting as they well up with tears. You've been so good about not throwing fits, about not being a crybaby, about being as strong as your super cool daddy and brothers and grandpa.
But you can't call them that anymore, can you? They don't want metas in Gotham, and that's what you are, now. You can't live with your family anymore.
Large, fat tears roll down your cheeks and your bottom lip wobbles. You whimper and both Diana and Clark whip their heads around to look at you in shock.
"No, oh no, don't cry," Diana coos, "you don't need to worry. Your father isn't —"
You bat her hands away when she reaches for you and jump off the counter, running underneath Clark's cape. They don't catch on to what you're doing in time.
Clark practically rips it off and fans it on the floor, floating above it with wide eyes. Diana kneels next to the fabric and frantically pats it, searching for you.
But there's nothing. You've fled into the shadow Clark's body cast and allowed the darkness to swallow you.
#batfam x reader#littlest wayne au#justice league x reader#j'onn j'onzz#diana of themyscira#clark kent#did we all see that dig i made on lantern? i did a little hehehe when i wrote it
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des fleurs pour vous — some flowers for you
pairing: neuvillette x reader
genre: fluff
summary: with a little bit of help, maybe neuvillette can win your heart
word count: 812
a/n: first post of the new year! hope everything goes well for everyone this year :D just an fyi that i might be posting less this year cus i'm in my final year of school ( ˶°ㅁ°) !! (it's gone by so fast oml) and i need to prepare for the exams ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ )
neuvillette who doesn’t understand why he feels so nervous when he sees you. to this ancient dragon of old, he cannot fathom the reason why his mouth dries up and his palms become sweaty. every time he catches sight of you, the corners of his mouth twitch up involuntarily. butterflies brew a storm in his stomach as his heart dances erratically in his chest.
neuvillette who confides in the melusines about the foreign illness that has befallen him. in front of neuvillette, the melusines assure him, promising to do their best to cure him of this sickness that leaves his face burning and his ears flushed with red.
the moment his intimidating figure leaves the room, the melusines are huddling with their heads close together, whispering and brainstorming ideas.
“monseiur neuvillette has fallen in love!” menthe gasps dramatically, her tiny paws covering. the other melusines fawn over the notion, covering their mouths with their little paws, swooning over the fantasies their imagination has created. they’re overjoyed that the impartial iudex has found his other half, but without their help, this romance was heading nowhere.
after countless brainstorms and head whacks later, the melusines have a fool-proof plan. operation fleurs, they called it.
neuvillette who begins to think that he is losing his mind or getting too old for the job when he finds leaflets of local florist shops hidden between the legal files. when he’s pulling out books to consult, torn pages of various romance novels fall out, all citing love confessions, with one book on his desk even being swapped to “how to confess your love 101”.
neuvillette who after much coaxing from the melusines, decides to sit down at his desk, face impassive as he struggles to write a letter to convey his feelings. the melusines are ready to slam their heads on the table as they painfully watch the chief justice, who can hand down sanctions and orders without a moment of hesitation, is now terrified as he hopelessly stares at the blank pages, praying to the archons that he can express his feelings properly.
neuvillette who writes you such a formal letter stating that he wishes to meet you, that when you received it, you feared for the worst. as you stand beside the fontaine of lucine, anxiety gnaws at your stomach. did you do something wrong? were you about to lose your lawyer license? such thoughts chased each other in your mind, a silent mantra of your worst nightmares.
neuvillette who is so nervous about talking to you that he’s secretly mapping out 476 different escape routes and praying to the hydro archon that maybe today, at this exact moment, furina needs him for an urgent meeting.
your stomach drops when you see what could be described as neuvillette marching towards you, face set and stern, his arms held behind his back. somewhere in the back of your mind, your humour tries to throw light on the moment, silently commenting on how he looks like an old man eith his stance.
neuvillette, whose throat has dried up in fear and from the nerves that he has to awkwardly cough, but you’re so wound up by what is going on and end up jumping to conclusions, so you immediately begin bowing profusely and muttering apologies for some phantom mistake that you made.
neuvillette who gets so flustered he doesn't know what to respond and is reassuring you that you’re not in trouble. the melusines, who are very well hidden behind some bushes, are about to resort violence after hearing the both of you apologise to each other for the 500th time that day.
the melusines end up so frustrated with neuvillette’s lack of courage that they pop out from behind the bush and expose him to the whole of fontaine (there was only two other people there at the time)
a loud shout pierces through the tranquil barble of the fountain.
“OH MY ARCHONS, HES SO STUPIDLY IN LOVE WITH YOU HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO FUNCTION WHEN HE SEES YOU!”
the outburst from the usually softly spoken and quiet melusines leaves the two of you in stunned silence. your face is one of confusion as you point to yourself, as though trying to confirm what your ears heard.
when you look from the melusines to neuvillette to double check, scarlet red has coated his ears, warmth exploding over his face. hiding his face behind in embarrassment, neuvillette clears his throat before unveiling the bouquet of flowers he had hidden behind his back.
“well, it seems we started off with the wrong impressions, i sincerely wish that you forgive me for this. human emotion is…so difficult to grasp, but i believe this human tradition of giving flowers is meant to express… love? thus, i do hope that you may present me with the chance to court you?”
∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳) © curated with love by milkbobayun 2025 / づ ♡
#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#neuvillette x reader#neuvillette#genshin neuvillette#neuvilette genshin#neuvillete x reader#neuvillete smut#neuvillette x you#x reader#genshin x you
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I saw your post and came running 👀 I've been thinking about this since the end of December bc I really did not get into the holiday spirit until after it was over lmao BUT for any characters you want to write for: what are they like during the holidays? What traditions do they like to do? What gifts do they give you?
(Extra ideas you can take or leave if it helps your inspiration at all — How does Aventurine feel when you tell him you don't need any of those expensive gifts, just time with him? How does Sunday react when you sit him down to tell him he's stressing himself out too hard trying to find a perfect gift for you and that all you want is for him to be happy? How does Dan Heng respond when you tell him that the only gift you want for the holidays is him?)
^ I've just been rotating the hsr boys in my head all day at work lol so I have a lot of Thoughts™
gift of love.
summary. the greatest gift of all is his love.
a/n. tysm for the request!!! i decided to settle with gift-giving ideas you offered, since it sounded interesting and cute!! im just gonna stick with aven and sunday for this tho... i wanna test how sunday writes for me.
characters. aventurine. sunday.
cw. first time writing for sunday (this is more of a test with how much i enjoy writing him, sry for any OOC-ness). gift-giving. all lowercase. established relationship(s). PLS NOTE THAT I HAVEN'T DONE THE NEW TRAILBLAZE MISSION STILL CUZ I'M A LAZY MFER...SORRY.
aventurine.
tries to be soooo sneaky about figuring out what you like as gifts. he wants all of his gifts to be a surprise, after all! it doesn't work. you see right through his game plan. he's a smidgen disappointed (with himself), and might be a bit surprised depending on the kind of person you are.
he still ends up showering you in expensive gifts of things you enjoy. he tries to find the most expensive edition of any of those things even though he, of all people, should know that expensive ≠ well-made. you have to tell him to chill out.
he immediately believes you're angry with him (why wouldn't you be?). but you're not, and you can see the panic flash in his eyes for the tiniest of moments. you sigh softly with a wary smile. you briefly give him some space before talking to him about it.
you tell him that all the most expensive gifts in the world are nothing in comparison to quality time together. you remain patient with an open-mind and a listening ear – you know he needs a wealth of both. you make sure to tell him you miss him.
his mouth hangs open in silence when you tell him that, for once he's at a loss for words. his mouth closes and he smiles. he takes you into a soft hug and whispers, "i miss you too."
he makes an evident effort to be around you more often when he does have the time. you know, instead of wasting half of it out in the casino.
and it makes all the difference.
sunday.
the most perfectionist to ever perfectionist. stop him before he literally keels over from stress.
thankfully, you notice how weary he's been. and you ask him what's wrong. because at this point – everyone knows, everyone notices how he's been stuck in his head (more than usual). he frets over little things, as usual. but now he seems almost snippy. birdie is cranky.
when he eventually gives in and confesses that he cannot find the "right" gift for you, you're smiling and shaking your head. you give him a very long moment of silence, testing him – seeing if he catches on what you'll say next.
he doesn't catch on "quick enough", much to his dismay. perhaps he hasn't adjusted to your praises and reassurances...yet.
you tell him that the greatest gift of all would be for him to be happy. to be relaxed. to be in the moment. you throw in a little whisper, "maybe by my side, too."
he's silent – his mind running amok with what to say next. he settles for an awkward yet genuinely affectionate, "thank you..."
and then he asks for your forgiveness once he collects himself. you laugh softly and forgive him, you've gotten used to him asking for your forgiveness rather often. only yours, though.
at some point, you're going to need to tell him that forgiving himself is far more important.
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Hiii - for the fic prompts:
girlcedes - 7. Trapped in a room/closet/elevator
Lewis is glaring at Nico like she orchestrated this.
"I have places to be too." Nico says out loud, in her general direction. They're standing as far you can socially distance on an elevator. An elevator that the intercom buzzed in and reported would take fifteen minutes to send in the guys to fix. That was twenty minutes ago. Such glitz and glamour to live in Monaco.
"Not you. Claustrophobia." Lewis grits her teeth. She's sitting in a corner, squatting in her Dior running shoes. Probably showing off her knees can still take it.
Nico's leaning by the glass mirror because she's wearing a white pantsuit.
Oh right. Claustrophobia. Nico always forgets because it's always funny, the cars they drive in is more cramped than the spacious elevator. But it's about control, she gets that. Lewis in a Formula 1 car is just an extension of her body. But Lewis would always keep the door of the drivers room open, back in Mercedes.
"How are you scared of this and not jumping off a plane? It should be child's cake to you. Hm, that's not right. Child's play?" Nico frowns trying to locate the metaphor in the medley of languages in her brain. She speaks mostly to keep Lewis distracted. Nico herself is not, her positive outlook mantras covered this. Negative thoughts cannot happen if you don't let it. That's why she never checked her portfolio after the AI company she invested in rugpulled millions. It simply does not exist if she doesn't give it the power to.
"Skydiving is incredibly safe," Lewis bites the bait, "It's safer than scuba diving. And you're in control the whole time."
"All it takes is one parachute not opening." Nico shrugs. Even the thought makes her shudder. Absolutely not.
"Good thing they strap you with two then." Lewis drawls. She doesn't say it, too graceful these days, but the idiot is implied.
Nico rolls her eyes but is beaten in the marketplace of ideas.
She turns to the mirror, her shoulder length blonde hair bouncing. There's a pimple cropping up under her chin, she can feel it. She presses down on it, warning it to stay there.
"Don't do that - you look fine." Lewis is frowning, looking up at Nico from where she's crouched.
Nico used to obsessively poke and prod at her face staring at the mirror as a teenager. She's a little embarrassed Lewis remembers from their days of sharing rooms during karting.
"It's the only mirror time I get. Vivi and I are very mindful of not passing any body insecurities to the girls. Entering the pre-teens is a very impressionable time." Nico explains. She doesn't need her daughters rubbing off on her complexes.
Lewis gets up, lithe like a cat, in her oversized crewneck. She looks pointedly at the lack of ring on Nico's hand. "How's the divorce going?"
Nico purses her lips. "Conscious uncoupling. Very well, thank you. How's Ferrari?" She switches the subject. "Learn any Italian yet?"
"I've downloaded Duolingo." Lewis smiles, sheepishly, the gap in her teeth is still charming even after all these years.
"I remember teaching you some." In bed, tangled up in each other, another lifetime ago.
"I'm sure none of that was usable, man."
"Hm. You should try ti va di fare dolce su e giù?" Nico smirks.
"What does it mean?" Lewis asks.
Nico just smiles in that way when she knows something Lewis doesn't. "I'm sure Leclerc will be down. Happy to... accommodate." The double entendre in her voice gives it away.
Lewis takes a step closer, her hand on the railing where Nico is standing. And suddenly, the elevator feels like a much smaller space, with nowhere to hide. She shakes her head, the rings on her tattooed hands glittering. Nico feels strangely naked without hers. "He's not my type."
Nico leans forward. "And who is?"
The elevator doors ding open. They are on Lewis' floor.
#WOMANCEDES#I hope you like it <3#f1 rpf#my fics#brocedes#blorbocedes ask#girlcedes#in my head nico is wearing the shiv roy white pantsuit from her honeymoon#shoutout to Elle gayferrair for the Italian translate#Nico is saying 'do you want to make sweet up and down with me'
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Right in front of our faces
So I've been thinking about self-eating a lot. Not only because it's weirdly on brand with everything in Claudia's arc (drinking her own blood, treating her own body basically as dark magic parts just for other people's metaphorical consumption, at least in her head, rather than for her own desires) but also because... Why, y'know? Why have this be a thing, why reserve it for the third arc, an arc wherein with the Archdragons gone Aaravos' main goal will be to dismantle the Cosmic Council?
In some ways, I think I was so focused on Aaravos' side of things—the easiest way to get revenge on the Stars (since they don't care about the destruction of their creation, not really, according to him) would be to kill them but he, for whatever reason, cannot do that—that I was missing the obvious other side of things.
Aaravos asks in 7x08, "Are you watching?" but wouldn't it be really bad for him if they were? What is stopping the Cosmic Council from transporting Aaravos to the same place they took Leola and permanently killing him, since permanently killing a Startouch elf is something we know the Cosmic Council, uniquely, can do? He couldn't stop them before when he was more powerful than he is now as a 'Fallen' Star.
Aaravos' plan hinges on eventually getting the Stars' attention, and they are presumably still at their full power, just no longer involved with Xadia. He is seemingly never concerned, even when making the choice to live and plot against them, that the Stars would just kill him the way they did with Leola.
Or maybe, perhaps, he already has a reason that they can't.
As he collapses in tears at Leola's trial, Aaravos' chest star is complete and right side up. After, presumably, 100 years of weeping, his star is inverted and the centre piece is missing when the Merciful One comes to see him.
The reason I brought up self-eating is because we see it's used as a form of chasing immortality, even beyond what Kim'Dael does. I've long speculated that Aaravos purposefully carved out his chest piece, whether to place it in something or to help create dark magic. He may not have done anything with it, even if it was on purpose, but I wonder... if he ate it, in order to ensure that the Cosmic Council couldn't kill him.
This is especially noteworthy since from what we see of Leola's trial, her destructive glow begins in her chest star and then spreads to her fingers, and the destruction of Aaravos' mortal form is radically different.
This doesn't really make sense. Leola was destroyed while in her mortal form, given that moments before she'd been living and interacting with things on earth, just like her father. Aaravos' destruction stems from the bite mark at first, but then begins elsewhere that's entirely separate (the foot) and never broaches the hands. Leola becomes entirely light, while Aaravos' body seems to be shattered, and does bear a striking resemblance to how dark!Callum crumbles in the 2x08 dark magic nightmares.
Furthermore, when Leola is killed and her star energy is sent down (for lack of a better description), we do see a symbol of a star being inverted, despite that not being a part of her character design.
We also know that Aaravos' body being destroyed differently in 7x09 isn't due to dark magic use, at least not in terms of his body. As of season seven, he hadn't done any dark magic in his new body, which is a soft reset. However, we also know that dark magic affects your soul/spirit (6x06) which would, presumably, be the same no matter the body in this case. Therefore, the reason Aaravos' body might've crumbled (beyond differences in execution style) might be because of the dark magic he's used that created a permanent hole in his spirit/self, and one that Leola, of course did not have.
I also think some of this in my head is connecting to the ideas of sacrifice. Other characters, especially parents, can sacrifice themselves in TDP canon in hopes of a better future for their children / the next generation (the three queens, the archdragons, Harrow, etc). Aaravos divorcing himself from the ability to sacrifice himself, especially after thousands of years with no daughter to speak of (until Claudia, but on her in a second), purposefully robs himself from the ability to make a meaningful contribution to the cycle. Death, permanent death, provides meaning and consequence, both things he's seemingly devoid of.
Sacrificing his ability to die (his heart) and at least, in theory, reunite with his daughter / no longer exist without her to ensure he can 'avenge' her is a hell of a thing, after all. And on a certain level, that seems like his endgame goal regardless. Even if all the above speculation is untrue and wily, unless he can execute himself, in destroying/killing (?) all the other Startouch elves, he will be alone and eternal... forever, with no way out, carrying only the pain of his child's death and withering satisfaction at punishing her murderers, unless he decided to eventually change.
Like I said: a hell of a thing.
#tdp aaravos#tdp#the dragon prince#tdp meta#aaravos#analysis series#predictions#arc 3#tdp theory#s7 spoilers#deep lore dive#i also want to talk about how the show discusses longevity / immortality bc. goddamn did s7 complicate it#analysis
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Starstruck Coral (Romeo Lucci x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)
okay so uh. i don’t really know how to explain this one. like truly i don’t. i feel like it came 2 me in a vision from a higher power or something bc this doesn’t feel like it was my own idea, much less self-indulgent, but regardless??? i actually like it!!!!
a/n: what i can say is that this was directly inspired by me buying this lip plumper tint called "Starstruck Coral" and how literally everyone around me once i put it on was like "ITS SO PRETTY!!" so yea. that's what this is. also. yea. been writing a lot of porn-free fics lately. don’t worry, im not uninspired. rather, i just wanna focus on budding feelings 4 a little while. then it’ll be back 2 porn i promise. im too insane 2 be kept from porn 4 very long i fear.
maybe part 2? maybe? idk yet i dunno. i might. i might not. we’ll see what my brain says…
summary: romeo cannot stand your visage so he styles it to his liking. why are you suddenly the belle of the ball? (leo, rui, haru, ed, and lyca make guest appearances here lol)
cw: some sexual comments. minors dni as per usual. no smut i fear!
“...Why are we doing this, again?”
“Shut up.” Romeo’s voice is practically seething with barely restrained anger as you interrupt his focus for the umpteenth time. He holds up one finger in the air towards you, not even turning to look at you. He slowly puts his finger down, and his hands twitch, clearly resisting the urge to ball into fists. ���Just shut up. Let me handle this.”
Romeo continues perusing the available colors. Pearlescent White, Modest Matte Mauve, Cherry Pop Red, Hot Tease Pink, Starstruck Coral, and Raven’s Wing Black. He narrows his eyes and whips his head around to your face, studying your features intensely. His eyes pause on your lips, and he frowns as you roll them between your teeth nervously.
“Would you stop-! Urgh, nevermind.” He starts before abruptly stopping, turning fully towards you and grabbing your face, directing it in different angles in the light. He pays strong attention to your lips, noting the thickness, color, and shape of them. He grumbles to himself, looking back at the colors on the shelf. Only one seems to be a perfect match.
Starstruck Coral. That’s the one.
He plucks it off the shelf and places it in the basket before stalking off to the cash register. He knows you know to follow him, and you do, meekly following his steps, still unsure of the purpose of this outing. You shift idly from one foot to the other as he pays at the cash register, listening to the general ambiance of the store. People chattering, items being scanned, wheels of carts rolling along the tile floor. You’re idly reading the label of a pop culture magazine when Romeo appears at your side, sour expression etched into his face. It makes you jump, and he looks at you with an even sourer expression. “Let’s go,” is all he says, his voice loud and demanding, leaving little room for argument. He walks off again, casting a look over his shoulder to ensure you’re following him, which you are, confused expression still stuck on your face.
The two of you return to the Darkwick train station through a door labeled “Employees Only”, careful not to get caught. Once you board the train, Romeo unceremoniously tosses the bag of products towards you and sits across from you. His expression is enough to broadcast that he’s more than over this, despite having spent hours meticulously scanning the available products to find the ones that best matched your skin. He studies you again as you take your seat and the train begins to move. His eyes rove over your face again, as though picking apart your appearance in search of flaws. He hardly flinches when you look up and catch his gaze, though when you nervously turn away, he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Go on. Ask what you want to ask.” His voice comes out exactly as exasperated as he’d meant it to be. He would hope this would discourage you from asking any questions, but he knew better than that.
He watches you shift nervously before speaking up, looking down at your fingers fidgeting with the bag instead of making eye contact with him. “...What is all of this for?”
He exhales, already sick of answering your questions even though he hadn’t answered any. “That anomalous cloak does not do your makeup for you.” Part of him assumes this would be enough explanation, but at your still confused expression, he rolls his eyes and continues explaining. “I am tired of going on missions with someone as basic and unappealing as you. If you are going to be a constant, I insist you at least know how to do your makeup to fit in when we go on high-class missions.” He doesn’t bother sugarcoating anything. Instead, he leans back in his seat again, deciding this was a job well done. He hears the crinkling of the bag and pops one eye open, watching you as you study the products in the bag. You pull out the Starstruck Coral lip tint and suddenly you have his full attention. He opens both eyes and tries to discreetly lean forward, watching as you turn the box around in your hands. He was awful proud of that choice. It was the perfect ombre blend of coral and pink, not too warm and not too cool. It would match your undertone perfectly and it even had a shimmering quality to it. So long as you wore it right, he was sure it’d refine your appearance an exceptional amount.
After finishing praising himself for his genius internally, he leans his head back onto his seat, content to just get this over with. As long as you didn’t look as constantly unappealing as you usually did on missions, it would be fine. He couldn’t get why, but it irritated him. Granted, your skin was okay at best. There were some acne scars here and there, blackheads all over your nose, and slightly puffy undereye, which he suspected was from not getting enough sleep on this accursed campus. Other than those faults, your skin was okay. No visible outbreaks or dryness. He had to applaud you for at least taking his advice to heart and moisturizing a little bit. It had done noticeable wonders, at least to him.
He hears the unmistakable sound of plastic wrap being torn, and he perks up again, noticing you unwrapping the Starstruck Coral lip tint. He leans forward again, curiosity suddenly bubbling within him. “Put it on.” He says before he can think about it, his eyes focused on the small unwrapped box in your hands.
“...Huh?” You give him a puzzled look, tilting your head. His eyes flick towards you in annoyance and he gestures towards the box, his eyebrows furrowing in irritation.
“Don’t be dense, put it on!”
You nod hurriedly, and he can tell from the way your eyes glimmer that you’d wanted to try it. He has to resist the urge to smile, your subtle but affirming reaction filling him with pride. He watches as you open the box and pull out the lip tint, turning it over in your hands before unscrewing it open. Romeo can already feel himself growing impatient, idly tapping his foot as he waits for you to start. “It may be a little messy because I don’t have a mirror, but I’ll do my best.” You warn him, finally unscrewing the tint, admiring the pretty ombre color. He sits up when you speak, and unbeknownst to you, a scowl crosses his face momentarily. You hear his footsteps before you see him, crossing the short distance across the train in record speed and snatching the tint away from you before you could apply it with shaky hands.
When you look up at him questioningly, he shakes his head, holding the tint and applicator brush in his hand. “Just hold still.”
With that, he leans over you, placing the thin tube of tint in your hands and firmly holding your chin, his eyes seemingly glued to your lips. “Open.” When you do as he says, he gently applies the tint to your bottom lip, pursing his own lightly glossed lips as he focuses. He exhales, and fails to notice the way you shiver, his breath fanning over your neck. His knuckles gently press into the soft skin of your cheek and chin as he carefully follows the border of your lips, watching as the plush skin yields to the pressure before plumping up again. Somewhat caught between a haze of his intense focus applying the tint and unexpected fascination with the buoyancy of your lips, Romeo accidentally smudges some of the tint. Despite his bubbling annoyance at his own blunder, for a moment, it’s an almost charming imperfection. The lip tint glitters against your skin, smudged just off the corner of your parted lips. If he were any more brazen, he would have given in to the odd temptation unfurling in his stomach to simply kiss it away. Fortunately for him and his own reputation, he’s far more proper than that. With a pointed glare at the corner of your lips, he wipes away the smudge with his gloved thumb. He glances at the sparkling residue left on his glove before wiping it away onto your top lip. When you flinch in response, he has to suppress a shiver down his spine. This action was inexplicably intimate, yet he didn’t understand where his flusteredness was coming from. There was no reason to act nor feel like this.
He applies the tint to your top lip in a more rushed fashion, suddenly wanting to replace the earlier distance between you two. He frowns when he finishes, nitpicking any slight smudges or missed spots, before stepping away, admiring his work. “There.” He plucks the tint from your grasp, screwing the applicator back on and tossing it into the bag. “...This might be good enough,” he says, feigning confidence, but he can hear the way his voice wavers with uncertainty, a part of him itching to do more. His gaze flickers upwards to meet yours and an idea pops into his head. He could do your lashes. They were long by itself, but some of the mascara he’d bought couldn’t hurt. Despite himself, he finds himself sitting back down in front of you, reaching for and holding your chin firmly again. He turns your head every which way, determining what else he could do to refine your appearance some. Unfortunately, he’s aware this train ride ends soon, and he feels himself getting nauseous at the idea of spending more time with you than he has to, despite the anticipation crawling up his spine. He reaches for the bag again, pulling out the mascara he’d bought earlier. When you reach out your hand to apply it yourself, he gently swats your hand away. “No. Hold still.”
He doesn’t give you much choice, still holding your chin and pulling your face closer to his. He purses his lips again, telling you not to blink as he applies your mascara. He finds himself staring at your eye color, noting the color of the mascara in comparison. Perhaps next time he ought to choose something that made your eyes stand out more, or maybe that’d be easier done with some eyeshadow in the correct shade. He decides to halt his thoughts there, scowling. He had to focus, and he was damn well sure there wouldn’t be a ‘next time’. He internally recoils at the thought of having to peruse the shelves with you over his shoulder again, constantly shifting your expressions, making it harder for him to focus. The slight furrow in your brow even now was distracting, and all he could think about was how he wanted to remind you that frowning causes wrinkles, and you would be especially susceptible to them if you didn’t keep up your skincare regime. Instead, he lets go of your chin and flicks you between your brows, frowning at you himself. When you get the message and relax your expression, he nods appreciatively and continues his task, moving to your other eye.
Finally, the task was complete. His eyes flick back and forth between your eyes, watching as you blink at him dubiously. When satisfied, he pulls away, screwing the applicator back into the mascara and observing your face. Your eyes seemed wider and brighter, and the added mascara helped your lashes appear longer. Your lips were bright and shimmering, still covered in that Starstruck Coral color. Romeo smiles to himself, proud with how he managed to turn around your appearance with so little. He reaches for your face again, holding your cheeks with considerable tenderness, as though scared one wrong move would smudge and ruin the perfect portrait of you. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath as he gazes at you, checking your entire face for imperfections, glazing over the negligible or unnoticeable imperfections that couldn’t be immediately cleared. He exhales, feeling himself gleam with pride as a reluctant smile digs into his cheeks yet again. He sits down beside you, still holding your face. “Non c'è male…” He mutters to himself, finding his gaze lingering again on the pretty ombre mesh of pink and orange and red on your lips. Truly, Starstruck Coral had been the right choice.
He’s basking in his pride more when he hears the shutter click of a camera, and a whistle in a familiar voice. “Now this will do numbers on WickHive.” The same familiar voice cackles and Romeo already knows he hadn’t moved away quickly enough to avoid the picture. One glance up and there he is, Leo, staring down smugly at his phone, where the incriminating image is probably being held. Surprisingly, hunched over Leo’s shoulder is Rui, inspecting the picture with a crease in his brow. Romeo cannot believe his lack of luck.
Romeo catches it when Rui makes eye contact with you, and it doesn’t escape him how Rui’s eyes flicker with an emboldened interest. Stepping past Leo, Rui heads to you with an extra skip in his step, wide smile already spreading across his face. His voice is higher than usual, and Romeo wonders if mere makeup was enough to trip up the ladykiller himself. “Woooow, MC!” He stops a short distance away from you, his eyes flickering across your face as he takes in your makeup. “You look cuter than usual today. What’s brought this on, huh?” Rui’s tone is filled with mirth as he pokes your nose playfully. Romeo stiffens and has to bite back the urge to swat his hand away from your face.
Romeo carefully watches your reaction, and is almost relieved when you don’t smile immediately. “You like it? I haven’t seen how it looks yet.” You reply to Rui, a little hesitant but clearly glad for the praise.
Rui sticks his bottom lip out in a mock pout. “Awww, you should! You look so cute!” His face breaks out into a wide smile again, and it’s almost crushingly obvious that Rui’s a flirtier version of Kaito at this point. “I’m assuming we have you to thank for this, hm?” Romeo looks up to notice Rui’s gaze on him as Rui vaguely gestures in your direction.
Romeo doesn’t resist the urge to puff his chest out a bit, folding his arms indignantly. “Indeed.” His terse answer doesn’t hide his swelling pride, he’s aware, but brevity is the soul of wit, which he likes to claim to possess.
“He picked out some makeup items for me.” You chime in, holding up the bag with a relaxed smile. It seems you’ve finally taken to Rui’s compliments.
Rui shakes his head with a complicated look in his eyes, clearly picking up on the message behind the gift, but happy for you nonetheless. “Well, leave it to Romeo to pick out such a pretty color. It suits you.” Rui winks at you before finally finding a seat on the train, just across from you, taking Romeo’s former seat.
Leo, who’s clearly been either editing the picture or waiting his turn to soak up all the attention, saunters up to you, smug smile still on his face. Romeo doesn’t miss how your earlier smile seems to fade all at once. He would laugh, but it’s not that funny.
“Gotta say, I agree with Rui. Who knew…” Leo trails off, his fingers reaching for your chin and holding it with uncharacteristic tenderness, tilting your face upwards towards him. Romeo notices how you stiffen at the contact. “...That the honor student could be—” Leo suddenly snaps his lips shut, and Romeo can tell from the way his lips purse despite being in a smug smirk that he had to bite back a compliment. Leo only falters slightly, brow creasing minutely before quickly straightening again, lips quirking back up into a teasing smile, more words as demeaning as they were saccharine sweet on the tip of his tongue. “Well, it suits you. You might even be unrecognizable enough to pass as a beauty in this picture.” Leo smirks, waving his phone in his hand.
Romeo finds himself intervening before he can really think about it. He swats Leo’s hand away from your chin. “Stop that. You’ll smudge her foundation.” A blatant lie, but it would be sound enough to get him to back off, Romeo hopes. Something about this was fraying at his nerves.
Leo raises a crooked brow at Romeo, a slow, shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “I don’t know, Romeo. The blackheads on her nose account for a lack of any foundation at all. Nice try, though.” Romeo should be thankful Leo lets it go, but all he can do is turn away indignantly, feeling his face burn with embarrassment. He hears a chuckle before light footsteps padding away, and gently exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. By god, of all people to board the train at that moment…
Rui walks at a much faster pace than you and Romeo, strained expression on his face. He’d left Lyca and Ed in charge of the bar while he was off on a short mission, as he explained earlier, and could only hope that they hadn’t mistakenly set the bar on fire.
Romeo was headed to the bar for drinks, and as far as he was concerned, you were coming with him. The earlier incident with Leo convinced him he cannot let you out of his sight for today. Leo had cited some excuse for not coming to the bar, but Romeo could tell from the grin Leo flashed his way that he can expect that picture to be all over WickHive by evening. A drink to forget it, even temporarily, would be enough for Romeo.
Rui heaves a sigh of relief as he steps into the bar, glad to find nothing on fire nor destroyed, but Lyca doing the work while Ed sits perched at the bar. A red shock of hair buried in a white sleeve also denotes another guest. Romeo has to grit his teeth, remembering how Haru went on and on about you after first meeting you. He can only imagine the endless waterfall of praise he’ll surely come up with on the spot seeing you even remotely dolled up. He makes a mental note to bring painkillers for the inevitable headaches he gets when he comes here and Haru happens to arrive.
Clearly, Romeo needs to be more forthright about how he’s trying to protect his ears, because when you plop yourself down in the seat right next to Haru, all he feels is dread. He quickly slips into the seat on your other side, despite there being no remaining danger.
Rui, finally behind the bar, gently nudges Haru. He immediately raises his head, and Romeo can’t tell if he woke up that quickly or was already awake and out of it so soon. The faint blush on his face indicates the latter. As Haru reorients himself, Romeo notices Lyca peering at you oddly. He’d never so much as heard this boy speak, but something tells him he’s going to be as much as, if not more of, a headache than Haru.
“Oh, hi MC-! …Wait. Something’s different about you.” Haru’s voice had its classic drawl it always had when he’s getting close to being hammered. Romeo’s sure it’s loud enough to be heard from Obscuary’s entrance. He watches, jaw clenched tight as Haru inspects you. Boldly, and probably not realizing how drunk he is, Haru reaches out, his gloved fingers lightly tracing the skin above your eyebrows. Romeo notices you don’t recoil at this touch, but he doesn’t know if it’s because you know he’s drunk or if you happen to not dislike Haru. Both options are less than ideal.
Puzzled expression still stuck on his face, Haru traces his fingers downwards, caressing your cheek. “Yea…” He mutters to himself, his eyes tracing the path of his fingers. “Something’s…” his fingers reach the corner of your lips, “...Different…Oh!” His eyes widen like it’s finally occurred to him, and his gaze remains transfixed on your lips, shimmering coral color still bright and undisturbed on them. “You’re wearing makeup!”
“Is that what that is?” Lyca cuts in, suddenly appearing behind you, craning his neck to get a good look at your face. He narrows his eyes, scrutinizing your appearance before leaning away, satisfied. He crosses his arms, a light blush dusting his face as he tries to ignore the staring he just did. “Hmph. It’s pretty.” His compliment is short and terse, but Romeo can tell from your relieved sigh that you’re happy to receive it nonetheless. However, said compliment is quickly followed up by: “...You reek of the damn blond gigolo, though.”
Rui stiffens behind the bar, cleaning a glass. “Come on, my cologne isn’t that potent.” He looks up from his task to find all five of you avoiding his gaze.
Ignoring Rui’s distressed cry of shock, Haru turns to you again. “Lyca’s right. It is pretty. Though…” Haru leans towards you, his chin propped up in his hands, “I always thought you were quite the looker, you know.” His smile is disarmingly handsome, even to Romeo. His flushed cheeks and lovestruck gaze probably only add to it. Romeo suppresses a gag, turning away.
Rui, having partially recovered from the prior shock, also leans towards you, resting his cheek in his palm, partially hiding a cheeky smile. He hums in agreement with Haru, nodding. “Can’t disagree with that. You’re an attractive gal.”
Romeo shivers, ready to pull you away from Haru and Rui’s gazes. When Lyca cranes his neck to gaze at you again, Romeo snaps.
“Will you horny dogs keep your dicks in your pants and your lascivious gazes off of her?!” He knows he’s one to talk considering the way your lips simply shimmering was enough to disarm him on the train, but still. This was ridiculous.
“Really, now…” A soft, low, velvety voice echoes through the silence following Romeo’s outburst. Ed appears behind you, gently placing his hands over your ears. He mockingly frowns disapprovingly at Romeo. “Using such vulgar language in front of a lady…” He shakes his head and tuts a few times, a smile crawling onto his face. “Surely you know your manners?”
Rui chimes in, teasing grin all over his face. “He may need a refresher on them.”
With that, Haru, Rui, and Ed dissolve into snickers, just as Romeo bursts into a blush. Lyca, off to the side, looks a little confused.
“I don’t get it. Why not use words like that in front of her?”
Romeo’s walking you home. He insisted on it. He wasn’t about to let a repeat of him being humiliated yet again by your side, nor was he going to let some other ghoul or normal human lay his eyes on you, at that. Maybe this makeup was a bad idea. But then, he turns to sneak a quick glance at you. Your expression appears quite pleased, and your shimmering lips are curled into a small smile.
Well. Maybe it wasn’t that bad of an idea.
“Thank you.” Romeo’s surprised to hear you pipe up, and turns towards you questioningly.
“For what?”
“For the makeup.” You gaze at him kindly, giving him a small smile. He’s taken aback by it. “Can’t say you were kind about it, but I appreciate it regardless.”
Romeo hardly stiffens at the comment. He knows he wasn’t particularly kind about it, but that’s the point. How else is someone who can hardly remove their blackheads going to take proper care of their skin? He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, letting his thoughts run around his head. Part of him wondered if he had another reason for buying you makeup in the first place, and why this entire gift felt like it was only going to bite him in the ass later. Maybe it already was, what with how you’d managed to catch the attention of every single ghoul they’d encountered today. But that didn’t make sense. Why would you gaining attention bite him in the ass? He shakes his head, a blush forming on his face as though he already knows the answer.
“Shut up. Just use it on missions.” Romeo’s response is as terse as ever, quick and to the point. He watches as you roll your eyes, and something in him twinges, partially wishing he could’ve given a nicer comment.
When you arrive at the chapel, he watches you bound up the steps, sticking around despite himself. He musters up an obligatory “Good Night,” right before you close the door on him, and he watches as your shimmering Starstruck Coral lips pull into a grin.
“Goodnight, Romeo.”
He turns away as you close the door, ready to fill the rest of his walk back to Sinostra with more pondering. His phone buzzing in his pocket interrupts his peace, however, and he turns it on only to find an innumerable amount of notifications from WickHive.
“Kurosagi…” He curses his name under his breath. “When I get you…”
a/n: yippee!!!!!!! im surprised i managed to finish this. i honestly like it a lot, i think it's really cute and i like the way i wrote it. i genuinely hope you guys like it too!!!!!
shameless note that, as usual, i love likes, comments, tagged reblogs, and asks!! please feel free to let me know in any way you like just how much you loved my writing! it's what keeps me going!
until next time!!!
EDIT BC I SOMEHOW FORGOT?: a few hc's im adding 4 relevance's sake:
rui wears strong cologne and douses himself in it
haru has grey eyes
that's all yippee!!
#minors dni#tokyo debunker#tkdb#tokyo debunker x reader#tdb#tokyo debunker mc#tokyo debunker romeo#tokyo debunker rui#tokyo debunker haru#tokyo debunker leo#tokyo debunker lyca#tokyo debunker edward#romeo lucci x reader#romeo scorpius lucci#romeo lucci#rui mizuki x reader#rui mizuki#haru sagara x reader#haru sagara#leo kurosagi x mc#leo kurosagi#leo kurosagi x reader#lyca colt x reader#lyca colt#edward hart x mc#edward hart x reader#edward hart
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*About Damn Time – Jake Seresin
Warnings: public kink, unprotected, teasing, language
I walked in from training, instantly taking my hair out of my tight updo. I ran my fingers through my hair, well aware of the eyes that followed me through the room. I knew all too well who was watching me. That just made it even more fun.
It was no secret - to anyone - that Jake Seresin had a massive crush on me. I found out after about the third time he scared off the hot guy talking to me at the bar. In fact, no one comes near me because of him. Not that I minded. I only wish he would finally tell me how he felt.
"Lieutenant Y/L/N," Jake nodded as I walked into the auditorium.
"Lieutenant Seresin," I nodded. "You look good."
"We're in the same uniform," he stuttered.
"Relax, Hangman," I said, playfully patting his face. "It's just a compliment. You act as if no one has ever told you how handsome you are."
"You think I'm. . ."
"Don't act like you don't know it," I teased him. To send him over the edge – and to give him a hint– I kissed his cheek before heading over to talk to Phoenix.
"He cannot take his eyes off of you," she laughed as soon as I walked over to her. "That poor boy."
"Hey," I said, putting my hands up in defense. "All I'm doing is flirting and teasing him a bit."
"All you're doing is torturing the man," she said.
"It wouldn't be torture if he did something about his feelings," I shrugged. "It's been 13 months of this. You think he'll finally tell me how he feels about me now that we might be put on different ships?"
"I don't know, sweetie," she shrugged. "I hope he does."
"Me too," I sighed. "Maybe I should just tell him how I feel."
"I thought you said the whole reason you haven't told him is because you wanted to let him be the man and confess his feelings for you."
"I thought so," I mumbled. "But I'm getting tired of waiting for him to finally do something about it."
I walked away, heading to check in. Little did I know that Phoenix was running to the others and coming up with a plan.
* * * * *
After graduation, we all changed out of our uniforms and went to the unofficial party. I ended up showing up a little late and by the time I got there, everything was in full swing.
"There you are, Y/L/N," Jake teased me as I walked in late to one of the other trainee's homes. "I thought you ditched us."
"You know I would never," I smiled as I patted him on the arm as I passed. "I got stuck talking to and taking pictures with my family. They finally went back to the hotel after I promised I'd meet them for breakfast."
"Guess that means you can't get batshit drunk," Payback smirked.
"I never said that," I said, looking over at Jake and sending him a wink. "I'll be right back. I gotta get out of this uniform."
"Aren't you going to help her with that, Hangman?" I heard Coyote taunt Jake as I walked into the bathroom down the hall from the kitchen.
I quickly changed out of my uniform and into the light blue silk floor-length gown. I was about to zip it up when I got an idea. I opened the door, instantly seeing Phoenix.
"Hey, girly," she smiled. "Need help with your dress?"
"I do," I smirked. "Any chance you can push Hangman into the hall?"
She looked into the kitchen and laughed. "Honey, he is hovering around the corner, waiting for you to come out. I'll mention something to him."
"Thank you," I said sing-songy as I closed the door.
I heard as Phoenix mentioned me taking a while getting into my dress. Jake cleared his throat before I could hear footsteps. Just then, I peeked my head out of the bathroom.
"Jake!" I whispered loudly.
"Yeah?" His breath got caught in his throat when he turned around and saw me barely dressed. "What's up?"
"Can you help me zip my dress?"
"Sure," he said, his voice dropping. I carefully held my dress to my chest as I walked out of the bathroom and turned around. "Thank you, Jake," I said, sounding like I was relieved. "I was hiding in the bathroom and thought I heard Phoenix."
I looked over my shoulder to see Jake focused on the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra underneath my dress. "Everything okay, Hangman?"
"Yeah," he said a little too quickly. He slowly reached forward and grabbed my zipper. I hid my smirk when he carefully zipped up my dress.
"All good?" I asked.
"All good," he said, his voice catching in his throat. I turned around and didn't hide my smirk when he checked me out.
"Jake," I said, sounding concerned as I gently reached up and felt his forehead and cheek. "Are you feeling okay? You look kind of flushed."
"I'm fine," he stuttered.
"Let's get you a drink." I grabbed his hand and led him into the kitchen.
"Damn, Y/L/N!" Payback laughed when we walked in.
"Jealous?" I smirked.
"I know someone who might be," Coyote mumbled, hiding behind his beer.
A few minutes later, I noticed Jake off to the side, listening to Fanboy, Phoenix, Bob, and Omaha argue about their fantasy football while I was listening to Rooster and Payback argue about who's got a better time on the track.
"I don't know why you boys are debating this," I scoffed. "Everyone knows that I've held the record for the fastest time since I joined your little training group."
"Y/N, can I borrow you for a minute?" Phoenix asked.
"Sure," I shrugged. "Not like I'm missing anything here."
"You are evil."
"How so?" I laughed. She looked into the living room, toward Jake.
"Do me a favor," Phoenix sighed as she looked back at me. "Please put that poor boy out of his misery and just tell him you feel the same. I can't handle him moping around and watching you from across the room with yearning in his eyes."
"I'm still waiting for him to tell me how he feels," I chuckled, sending her a playful wink.
"Well," she giggled, "let's give him a little push."
She grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the other room. "Whatever happened with that guy from your hometown?" She asked a little too loudly.
"What guy?" Rooster asked, glancing at Hangman whose beer was frozen halfway to his lips.
"No one," I pushed off. "He was an old neighbor, growing up. Apparently, he's here doing his residency and looked me up. He wants to get drinks."
"You gonna go?" Coyote asked, no-so-subtly looking at Hangman.
"Not sure," I shrugged. "He's an old friend, but I haven't seen him in a while. Then again, it's not like there's anyone else with a better offer."
I pretended to see someone trying to get my attention and excused myself. Instead, I hid around the corner and listened to everyone badger poor Jake.
"You good, Hangman?" Rooster laughed.
"Yeah," Payback chuckled. "You look like you're gonna throw up."
"Or kill a man," Coyote mumbled.
"Maybe the guy who's been pestering Y/N to go out with him?" Phoenix teased him.
"You heard her," Rooster smirked. "She'd forget him if she had a better offer. Anyone know of a better offer?"
Part of me did feel bad for teasing him like this. Jake is actually a great guy. He got a bad rap when we first started training. Sure, he's 'Hangman' when we're flying, but he's not actually like that when we're on the ground. He's literally saved me from a drunk creep at the bar on multiple occasions.
I hadn't noticed that they had stopped talking until someone grabbed my wrist and pulled me around the corner. Once they had me against the wall, I saw it was Jake.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I scoffed as I pushed him off of me. "You can't go grabbing people, Seresin."
"I'm sorry," he said, not sounding like himself.
"Are you okay?" I asked, my own tone of voice changing.
"Yeah," he said with a soft smile. "I'm okay. I just needed to talk to you."
"And you thought kidnapping me was the best thing to do?" I taunted him. "There's this thing called a conversation."
My sentence got caught in my throat when he took a step forward, trapping me between him and the wall. I couldn't look away from his eyes as he slowly leaned in. I grabbed his face and closed the gap between us. Our lips instantly started moving roughly in sync as we wrapped our arms around each other.
We both let out moans as he pushed me firmer up against the wall. He broke the kiss and reattached them to my neck. I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes as he explored from my collarbone to my ear.
"Shit, Seresin," I moaned.
"You've been driving me crazy, Y/L/N," he moaned against my skin. I gasped when he roughly kissed me again. This time, I broke the kiss and rubbed my hands up and down his chest.
"Follow me," I whispered. I grabbed his hand and led him down to the basement. The second we got to the bottom of the stairs, Jake turned me around. As soon as I was facing him, he leaned in and kissed me. I instantly wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back.
Without breaking the kiss, Jake picked me up and put me on the counter. He opened my legs and stepped between them. Our lips moved in sync and our tongues danced as we held each other close. I ran my fingers through his hair as he slid his hands up my thighs, bringing my dress with him.
Unable to resist anymore, I roughly pushed him away. I hopped off the counter and landed directly in front of him.
I looked up at him with innocent eyes. "Can you help me with my zipper?"
His pout turned into a smirk when I turned around. He stepped up and dragged his hands up and down my arms. He kissed my neck as he slowly unzipped my dress. I turned around before letting my dress pool at my feet.
"Fuck," Jake moaned. "I knew you were gorgeous under that flight suit."
"You've thought about what I had underneath my flight suit?" I smirked. I reached forward and started unbuttoning his shirt.
"All the time," he moaned as I tore off his shirt.
"Well, good," I said as I grabbed the waistband of his pants and pulled him toward me. "To be honest, I've often thought about what you had underneath your flight suit. Especially when I am alone. . . Late at night. . . Or in the shower."
"Fuck," he moaned again as he crashed his lips onto mine. I wrapped my arms around him as he pulled me into his chest. He backed us up until we collapsed onto the couch. As Jake climbed on top of me. I pulled the waistband of his pants down.
Jake tore his lips away from mine as we finished undressing. His eyes glanced over my bare body before he rolled his body down mine. I arched my back and moaned when his body pressed firmly to mine, smashing all the right parts together.
"Oh Jake," I moaned as he continued to rub his body against mine.
"Fuck, Y/N," he moaned back. "I want you so bad."
"Then take me," I grunted loudly before grabbing his face and bringing his lips down to mine. "Finally take me."
Jake pressed his lips back to mine as we both adjusted. Without breaking the kiss, he grabbed my leg and wrapped it around his waist. I arched my back and moaned against his lips as he pushed himself into me.
"Holy shit," he groaned against my lips.
"Oh baby," I moaned as I bit his bottom lip. He chuckled before focusing back on his hip movements. The more he moved his hips, the weaker mine got. I squeezed my eyes shut as the pressure built.
"Fuck," he swore under his breath. I opened my eyes to see him watching me.
"What's wrong, baby?" I purred.
"Nothing," he stuttered through his grunts. "Just watching your face change as I. . . As I make. . . Seeing the effect I have on you."
I arched my back, bringing my face closer to his. "Just you wait, baby. There's a whole lot more we got to do."
"Fuck!"
I gasped when his movements got deeper and sharper. He kissed my neck as I dragged my hands up and down his bare back.
"I have wanted you for so long."
"And I have wanted you," I gasped, Jake's movements cutting me off.
Our lips reattached as our hips continued to dance. We could hear the party going on upstairs, but neither one of us cared. We only focused on each other; our movements, our lips, our feelings.
"Shit!" I moaned as I reached orgasm.
"Shit," Jake echoed me. He gently pulled out of me but remained hovering over me. "Y/N," he whispered, "there's something I've been dying to say to you since we first met."
"And what's that?" I asked as I snaked my arms around his neck.
"I'm crazy into you," he said, pressing his forehead to mine. "The thought of not being with you literally drove me mad. Now, the idea of someone else getting to have you makes me ready to get kicked out of the Navy."
"Don't do that," I pouted. "Then I'll be all alone."
"I will never let that happen," he whispered.
* * * * *
After going another round, we quickly got dressed and tried to make ourselves look like we didn't just hook up. With matching smirks on our faces, we headed back upstairs.
"And where were you two?" Payback smirked as he folded his arms and studied us.
"Downstairs," Jake smirked, "in the basement."
He grabbed my hand and led me into the kitchen. I winked at Payback and the others.
"Finally," Phoenix chuckled. Rooster laughed as he agreed.
"About time they hooked up."
#glen powell#glen powell fanfic#glen powell imagines#jake “hangman” seresin#jake seresin#top gun maverick#glen powell smut#jake seresin hangman smut
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so some recent art by @we-cool-beans reminded me of this one "sharing a body" au i've thought about.
i've talked about my other one where it takes place post-canon, with the temporary body-sharing happening in order to save gordon from a life-threatening disease he developed (likely from all that radioactive raw sewage...), but this is one that takes place during canon.
(this is using my headcanon that benry's true form is just a big glowing cloud of rainbow cosmic energy containing a consciousness).
after gordon's hand gets chopped off, and then benry realizes humans cannot in fact regrow limbs, he's not exactly jazzed over the fact that he got gordon perma-fucked up. he's also not a big fan of the fact that he can't un-fuck him up. benry doesn't know how to make someone else's body regrow limbs, just the body that he's in!
....so then he gets the idea "oh i'll just pop into gordon's body to fix it, then."
so benry abandons his own body somewhere (not important, he can just make a new one later), and slips into gordon's when everybody's asleep. when he gets there, he originally intended on just fixing gordon's hand and then leaving, but holy shit this guy is a LOT more beat up than benry thought. this hev suit's kinda sucks at being armor, huh. there's new wounds that are looking pretty rough, and benry also notes evidence of old injuries that don't look like they healed the way they're supposed to. he's got a looooot of work to do.
when the science team all wake up, they're all extremely surprised to see that gordon is no longer down a hand. the others of course make light of it, but gordon himself is feeling a weird mix of relief and what the fuck over the fact that he just... regrew a limb. like a fucking lizard or something. the rest of the team try coming up with theories on why this happened- "Perhaps the hazardous materials you've been swimming in have given you mutant powers!" "Are you sure you're actually human?" "Maybe Black Mesa's been secretly experimenting on you without you knowing it."
gordon of course does not like any of these theories.
at one point gordon gets a cut on his hand, an sees that his blood is a LOT darker than it should be, which freaks him out further. and then, again, when that cut heals up pretty much right before his eyes, he's not sure if he should be thankful or freaking the fuck out over it.
gordon also doesn't like the fact that benry's been missing again for A While, which normally he'd be thankful for, but given the current circumstances, it's putting him extra on edge.
gordon finally finds out both why he has a hand again and where benry went when he has a big emotional outburst... that's accompanied by sweet voice.
"I didn't know you could use the Black Mesa Sweet Voice, Gordon!"
gordon insists that he can't, and his panic is rising as more coloured orbs spill from his mouth (which tommy comfirms means gordon is panicking. bubby makes a comment like "Yeah, we can tell.")
it's then that benry, who has been just been staying quiet the whole time, finally speaks up in gordon's mind. "hey, calm down maybe?"
obviously this just freaks gordon out even more, albiet in a different way.
when gordon says he can hear benry in his fucking head, there's definitely some jokes in there from the team about gordon hearing voices now/being haunted again, pff.
eventually benry's able to explain himself (the best he can, at least). he's in here because gordon couldn't heal that good on his own, and benry couldn't heal him without being in here. and he's staying here because gordon's weak lil baby human body is just SO easy to break, like damn, so benry's gotta stick around to make sure it stays put together. he's the maintenance man, now.
gordon of course HIGHLY objects to this, but it's not like he can force this weird cosmic energy being out of his body.
(and though he's not saying it out loud, he does appreciate how all his usual aches and pains have been completely gone ever since benry started this "maintenance" work.)
gordon does at least get benry to agree to get the fuck out of him once they're all out of black mesa, though.
and then through the rest of their journey, understandings happen, and bonding happens. i've imagined one point where gordon is feeling Overwhelmed with Emotions and having a bad time because of it, when benry tells him to just, sing it all out with sweet voice. gordon begrudingly does so, and then... actually does feel better afterwords. turns out sweet voice is a really good way to get Big Feelings out. huh.
now the thing that we-cool-bean's art specifically reminded me of, is when they get to xen. benry obviously isn't here to be the big bad final boss, thus the nihilanth is still kickin' around, and proving to be just as dangerous as xenrey. during the fight, benry gives gordon a lil power-up: RAINBOW DEATH MODE
(gordon doesn't get freaky shape-shifting like benry does when in RAINBOW DEATH MODE, he just gets glowy. there's extra orange in there as that's gordon's life energy colour signature!)
i picture gordon getting to land the final blow on the nihilanth, managing to get up on its head, prying open that noggin' to expose the crystal... but then being unsure what to do next.
benry yells in his mind "song of death at it!"
"How do I do that!?"
"just think about how much you wanna kill this guy and SING!"
the 'singing' that comes out of gordon's mouth sounds less like the angelic theramin notes benry sings, and more like death metal screaming, but hey it gets the job done all the same!
in the end, even after benry's vacated the freeman, it soon becomes aparent that gordon is... not entirely human anymore. having benry spend so much time hanging out within him, and then giving that RAINBOW DEATH MODE boost at the end fully cemented gordon's own connection to the cosmic ether, which is what sustains benry. now it's sustaining gordon, too.
...aaaand gordon's gonna need some lessons on how to keep from spitting out sweet voice when he gets a bit too emotional while in public :B
#hlvrai#half life vr but the ai is self aware#gordon feetman#benry#benrey#hlvrai benry#hlvrai benrey#sharing a body#hlvrai gordon
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Asymetrical Symphony - Part 16
Universe: Arcane (LOL)
Pairing: Viktor x reader
Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help
Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.
A.N: I've made some cute headers for the thing!!! What do you guys think??
Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13 • Part 14 • Part 15
• ··········· • ············ •
“Are you coming in or not?” He didn’t move as he spoke, and with a deep breath, you walked into the elevator.
You didn’t care for Rictus, not that he ever did you much harm personally, but you had heard the stories. Caitlyn would tell about how he ‘interrogated’ Zaunites, and you'd begged her to say something. Stop him, stop Ambessa. At one point you'd ask her if releasing the gray wasn't enough, and that got you the silent treatment for a while. He was loyal to the general and her ways, and unless the universe had given him the ‘broom-closet’ treatment, he was probably the same asshole.
The doors closed with a cheerful ping, and you stared straight ahead at your blurred reflection in the golden metal. You started to pray to whoever was listening for this to be a quiet and quick ride, but when you saw his reflection move, turning slightly towards you, you knew the elevator was the gods’ blind spot.
“What was the color?” He asked, his tone smug about something you weren’t yet privy to. “Excuse me?” You didn’t fully look at him, just tilted your head slightly towards him. “The rune…what was the color?" You could feel his grin as the words came out.
Son of a bitch.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You turned back to stare in front of you with a deep sigh of annoyance coming out of you. “I know those distant looks into the void.” He straightened up too, grasping his hands in front of him. He wasn't trying to be menacing, but his weight alone was enough for him to be threatening no matter what he was doing. “In the beginning, it’s all very telling. The long stares into nothingness, the twitches when something gasps behind you. It’s all the same…”
There was no joking tone or sympathy in his voice, just knowledge. You supported the most blank expression you could muster as there was no sympathy in your eyes when you looked at his profile.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You punctuated every word, and he chuckled, his metal armor moving to the mocking sound.
“Was it Green? Golden? Blue? Purple?” He looked back at you, and the shattering sound started to reappear.
Apparently whatever micro-expression you gave him was enough for him to figure out as a grin spread across his face.
“Purple? Chaos then? Interesting…”
You looked at his expression with a scowl. It was more than obvious whatever you'd tell him was going to go straight out of your mouth into Ambessa’s ear. And yet he seemed to be the most knowledgeable person about actual magic. So the scowl was mixed with an eye roll of annoyance.
“What about it?” You looked back to your reflection.
“Those don’t show up often.” You kept your mouth shut, waiting for him to continue. "The Arcane doesn't trust us with those runes." "Us?" "Imperfect beings." His tone showing a displeasure at that description. "We cannot be trusted with chaos, because we like to jump into the dark waters without thinking of the consequences."
A moment of silence passed between you two. Somewhere in the back of your mind, another voice talked to you about imperfections and how it should be a priority of all beings to become their most perfect self. Now that you thought about it, the whole spiel made sense. He was a version of the Arcane.
“What would happen if I were to use it?” You side-eyed him; he tilted his head towards you much like you did before. "I suggest using it on someone you don't like." He looked at you smugly.
You looked at him straight in the eye, face blank, eyes on fire, a predatory grin unconsciously showing on your face. You saw the wall behind him start to shatter just like a window in the lab.
The arrogance on his features quickly disappeared. His shoulders tensed and his fists clenched. He wasn’t the only one who could read body signals. He was readying himself for something. The door pinged, and he took a step forward.
“You’d be dead before you finished speaking the rune.” he said as he passed by you.
That was enough for you to know the purple chaos rune was something even Rictus didn’t want to deal with.
• ············ •
After four or five weeks of popping into this dimension, the mystery was over: you finally found out what your mother’s commission to the lab was. It was a small machine that would be able to read out loud any document it scanned.
You brought a new couch to the lab at the beginning of the week. It was made from the same material as the armchairs on the penthouse's veranda. The shine in Viktor’s eyes could have lit up a dark room, as Jayce groaned.
“Thank you…now he’s never going home.” He had said. “He is. Mom is sending another one to his apartment.” You’d retorted.
After that, Viktor promised to make 'The Reader' his priority.
And that brought you to the lab, waiting for Viktor to finish something on the invention as you sat on the upholstery.
You understood at the moment the appeal of that cushioning, melting into it as Viktor turned his stool to you, placing the goggles on his forehead, his disheveled hair making him look like a mad scientist.
“I think we can try to make it work…Hopefully it will work,” he said, tilting his head to the side, looking at it with doubt, his hand going to the hairs on the back of his head.
“Explain to me again what it does.” You pointed your eyes gazing at the weird contraption.
You’d seen some beautiful things come from this lab in your timeline. This, though? ...was not it. Even though both men kept promising to make it look nice, the skeleton of the machine was nightmarish.
It had four long legs that came out of a funnel-like tube. The end of the tube had a glass lens with four little prongs to secure the hex gem on it, and two small speaker cones finished up the structure. It looked like a spider playing two tiny trumpets.
“Well…” he cleared his throat and pointed to the metal structure. “We call it 'The Reader' because, well, that is what it does." "Did you name it?" You joked, and he looked at you, rolling his eyes pointedly. "Maybe..." He gave you a grin and went back to the explanation. "You put a paper with something written on this side.”
He grabbed a small piece of paper, wrote something on it, and placed it on the lower part of the thing.
“And then you turn the switch.” He flipped a little metallic switch, and the hex gem shined, a ring of arcane symbols floating around it.
A blue cone of light came from the lens and reflected on the page; a small, brighter rune shined, and a line of brighter light from the cone traced the letters. After a few seconds, a noise that sounded like a record scratch started to come out of the speakers.
“Hello, I am Viktor.” The machine whirred, and a very mechanical Viktor voice came out of the machine.
It was far more similar to the Herald’s voice than you’d expect, and for a moment you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You blinked slowly, trying to stop the spiral about to start.
“I can change the voice…” Viktor interrupted your silence. You looked up at his cringing expression. “I don’t think my accent helps with the clarity of the reading.”
“It’s a perfectly good accent if you ask me.” You blurted out, your mind still a little light. "And if you're going to try and somehow use it in the Undercity, perhaps a familiar accent would help."
"Has your mother told you the purpose of the machine?" He asked, turning to you in his stool, knees bumping into yours.
"It's my mother's project. A project that you are overseeing. The target audience is very easy to guess." You shrugged and leaned back into the couch.
“I don't know if I like being that obvious with my intentions.” Viktor's had a joking tone, and you snorted.
Without another word, he turned the page over on the small table under the lens and flipped the switch again. The cone of blue light came over the text, and the small bright line started to trace the letters again.
A very stoic and misplaced Viktor voice came from the invention, this time sounding more comical than threatening since it was clear that the hex gem was trying to add sounds together unnaturally.
“This is the letter A.” It said, and you started to have difficulty controlling the laughter, the chuckles and snorts becoming hard to swallow. “It can be read as apple or nation. It can—
The runes started to move faster around the hex gem, and the sound coming from the speakers became distorted, much like a record player replaying a damaged part of a vinyl record.
“It can—hello—Letter A—read as I’m—Apple—Viktor—Nation.” It repeated a string of nonsensical words as it started to die down. You both looked at each other. Viktor with a concerned look, you with a humorous one. “I’m Vikt-or nation…Hello, Viktor, or nation”
The sound warbled out into silence. You sucked your lips, trying to stop the fit of laughter, but it was inevitable. You saw Viktor's chest shake, and a small string of laughter came out.
“It may need a few adjustments!” Viktor scratched the back of his neck. “Just a few?” “Yes. Well, last time I worked on it, no sound would come out. This is progress. Sort of…” He touched the machine with a screwdriver, and the thing went back to its incoherent speech, grabbing words from the paper and jumbling them together in an incoherent form.
You got back to laughing until Viktor detached the hex gem from its place, the machine dying without another sound.
“I don’t think you’re getting there with a few adjustments.” You looked at both the invention and the inventor with your head.
Viktor gave you an annoyed look, grabbed the metal spider machine, placed it carefully on his workstation, and started to tinker with the machine once again.
• ··········· • ············ •
@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies
#arcane#viktor#arcane viktor#viktor x reader#arcane x reader#viktor arcane#viktor arcane x reader#slow burn#viktor x you#viktor x y/n#arcane viktor x reader#viktor league of legends#arcane season 2#arcane x you#arcane characters#arcane reader
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WIP Wednesday 🎇
Kicking off with my first WIP Wednesday of 2025 - how exciting 😄
As requested by @anon, here is a li'l 🤏 snippet of the fic I'm currently working on! It will be a high school AU with gay loser Stiles and closeted jock Derek. Derek also happens to be dating cheerleader Paige...
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“Whoa, whoa, just – calm down,” Stiles cuts in, because Derek is dialling himself all the way up here, ratcheting to tip over the deep end in a matter of seconds, and it is really starting to freak him out. “It’s literally just some unoriginally homophobic bullying, dude. I’m used to it by now. Why the hell are you getting so worked up about it?”
A harsh breath flares at Derek’s nostrils, his earlier tirade now bitten back behind the snap of his teeth. His jaw clenches as he looks away once again, the shadow of his pale eyes sliding into the empty darkness over Stiles’ shoulder.
“I’m not,” he says tightly.
Stiles scoffs another laugh. That’s a lie if Stiles has ever heard one.
“You totally are,” he argues, eyebrows knitting together as he searches an avoidant gaze and comes up completely empty. “Seriously. Why would you even, like… care?”
His heartbeat stutters against his ribcage when Derek’s eyes snap back to his. Sharp, and piercing, and almost glinting in the moonlight that streams down from the inky sky above.
It is quiet between them. A light breeze whistles through the green of the trees around them, and distant engines rumble from the highway out of sight to them, and the music of the party still beats steadily on behind them, far away to mean nothing, nothing at all, to either one of them right now.
“I don’t care,” Derek says. “I don’t know.”
Lie. Lies, lies, all goddamn lies. It is clear as day in the break of Derek’s voice, in the nervous flash of his eyes and the hard set of his jaw and the fists he has curling into the grass they sit on. There is no doubt in Stiles’ mind that Derek is lying to him, but he just does not understand… why.
The pieces begin to fall clearer into place when Derek jolts forwards to kiss him.
Stiles feels frozen. His hands hover just above his lap, his eyes open, big and wide and stunned as they stare across at Derek’s closed ones, the dark shadow of his eyelashes against the sharp height of his cheekbones. There is a blade of grass stuck to the heel of Derek’s palm, damp where it presses to Stiles’ cheek, cool against the flush of Stiles’ skin, that shaking, gentle touch holding Stiles carefully in place for the dry match of their unmoving mouths.
A second passes before Stiles can truly catch up to what is happening to him. He breathes through his recovery, closes his eyes, and kisses back.
Their heads tilt, the faint nudge of the tips of their noses as they angle for better, angle for more. The sound of their lips catching at one another is so loud to Stiles, a deafening, repetitive smacking to be heard even above the steady roar of blood inside of his ears. Derek keeps his hand on Stiles’ face. Stiles cannot move his hands from midair.
This is his first kiss. Ever, actually – literally his very first. He really was not kidding about feeling like the only queer kid around for about a hundred miles or more. Any kind of opportunity like this has never presented itself to him before. He barely knows what to do with it.
Derek’s mouth is warm, and his hand is kind of warm now, too, but his tongue – his tongue is hot, so fucking hot. It sweeps along the seam of Stiles’ bottom lip, wet and pressing and burning at the twisting pit of Stiles’ stomach. Derek takes the chance to lick instantly inside when Stiles’ lips part with a humiliating hitch of breath.
Time passes. It’s a cliché, but Stiles truly has no idea how much, loses track entirely of even the concept of its passage as he sinks into the feeling of Derek touching him, kissing him, holy shit, Derek Hale is kissing him. Stiles’ trembling fingers clutch into the fabric of his own jeans, too terrified to even consider reaching out for Derek, too aware of how easy it would be to break whatever fucking spell is happening between them right now.
In the end, his restraint is futile. The crash of a patio door swinging into the wall from the house behind them has Derek ripping away from him so quickly it could tear a hole in the very fabric of the universe.
They stare at each other with wild eyes. Derek is breathing just as heavily as Stiles is. Stiles’ mouth feels weird, puffy in a way he has no experience with, and there is nothing he can do to stop the hand that flies up to his face, fingerprints denting into the bow of his lip.
Derek’s eyes dip down to follow the movement. They are not allowed to linger there long.
“But,” Stiles says, little more than a whisper, raw and quiet, “you’re straight.”
A beat. Derek merely stares silently back. His mouth is red as it parts around a ragged breath, and no words follow after.
“You have a girlfriend,” Stiles presses on.
Derek leaps instantly to his feet.
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No pressure tags! 🩷 @crownofstardustandbone @dear-massacre @eevylynn @heavensenthale @like-lazarus
@lucky-bishop @nerdherderette @raisesomehale @renmackree @violetfairydust
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Spuffy band-fic ramblings (long-post)
I think about this scene so frequently because…"Well, I sing.”
Yes, of course he does. That man was a poet, he could write such gorgeous lyrics, and no one can tell me Spike wasn’t an active part of the rock scene in the 70s.
Honestly, a whole Spuffy band fic has been marinating in my brain for like a good 6 months now, (like seriously, it even has its own playlist, that’s when u know it’s getting real)… but since I’m only a baby writer I wanna get some writing practise in before I embark on the project, so that I can do it justice.
However as I literally cannot keep these thoughts to myself, allow me to invite you into my brain for a while.
(Be warned I'm basically spoiling half the plot of a future fic under the cut so scroll away if u only wanna read it when, or if, it gets written.)
So in my fic idea, there’s a huge underground vampire music scene (particularly in LA), since because vampires are immortal, they’ve lived through so many different eras of music that they have a really deep understanding of music history. They’ve seen so many famous bands live etc (which obviously is one of the few human experiences open to vampires, since so many gigs take place at night and are tied to nightlife culture).
I’d also say that since vampires have no need to work, if they can get their hands on instruments they'd have plenty of time to practise/dedicate themselves to the craft.
One head-canon that I have comes from the idea that Billy Idol “stole Spike’s look” from him. What if he stole something else too?
Bear with me here.
Vampires don’t age, so they could never risk becoming famous in the human world, since people would very quickly notice that they weren’t human. Vampires need to keep a relatively low profile. They also can’t really make money easily from music by playing for other vamps, cause it’s quite unlikely the vampire scene has much money flowing around. Why would it? Everyone can just steal/mug to get what they need.
So in the vampire music world, they’d mostly just be playing for each other to stave off the boredom of eternal life, but with no worries about finances or putting food on the table.
And dear God that music would be experimental, with none of the usual restraints of human life.
Like I think their music would be very interesting/ outside the mainstream. Perhaps they’d play stuff from entirely different decades which had completely gone out of style, but not amongst vampires who never aged/got uncool (unlike the humans who played it)….
Vampires would also have so many different first-hand musical influences that they’d create the most weird and wonderful sounds. Think Spike’s Victorian musical upbringing mixed with jazz mixed with rock, mixed with… well, you get the picture.
And tbh I think some people would try and capitalise on that, on that raw vitality. Perhaps there’s a demon who records demos secretly in the crowd or steals entire songs and sends them to someone in the know in the music industry. And since vampires don’t exactly have passports, social security numbers or any real documented presence at all, there’s nothing they can do about it. Like what if, in this fictional world, Billy Idol didn’t just steal Spike’s look, but his music too? Frankly, it'd explain the resentment.
Anyway, in my head Spike hasn’t played music for a while, he took a break to look after Drusilla and then got wrapped up in the scoobies and their shenanigans.
But after Buffy dies? He needs somewhere to put all those emotions. He needs to write goddamn it, he hasn’t felt heartbreak like this for a long, long time. He’s not used to death, he doesn’t know how to deal with it. No vampire does.
So when he’s drinking away the pain in Willy’s one night, some demons he used to know are down from LA and offer him an open spot to sing with them at a new demon club. Spike’s about to turn it down, but they tell him things have changed. Like Wolfram and Hart, demons are all in business now, and this new club will pay.
Spike doesn’t need money… but Dawn does. Tara and Willow won’t tell him anything, (they don’t want to be put in the moral position of whether to accept mugging-proceeds from Spike), but he knows that finances are tight. And this is something he can do for Dawn, and in a way… for Buffy.
So Spike joins a band!
I think he’s probably pretty famous from his past in the 70s vamp rock scene, but this time he wants to change up the music genre. He wants a fresh start. It’s the nineties goddamn it, and he’s certainly not the same vampire he was twenty years ago. He’ll play, but he’ll play on his terms.
I imagine his newer music to basically be Jeff Buckley’s (my fave 90s musician), which I know might seem a bit melancholy for Spike, but with his current grief, it feels quite appropriate.
Tbh since I basically know nothing about music and can’t even imagine lyrics for toffee, I'd probably even just give him Jeff’s discography and call it a day. It’s fanfic I can do what I like. Grace? Spike wrote it. Job done.
For example, the lyrics to “Opened Once”?
"In the half-light where we both stand
In the half-light you saw me as I am
I am a railroad track abandoned
With the sunset forgetting I ever happened
That I ever happened"
Half-light = the twilight, the safest time of day for vampires (to quote Edward Cullen, sorry lol). also a metaphor for the place between the vamp world and the human world. A place where Buffy and Spike "both stand", as she’s the slayer and he’s a vampire that can’t hurt people.
‘You saw me as I am’ - After Buffy's resurrection, Spike’s the only person who truly understands what she’s been through, and the experience of crawling out of your own grave. They meet each other where they are.
‘Railroad track’ - ‘railroad spike’. Railroad is a pretty unusual and archaic way of phrasing that word. At least where I’m from. ‘Railroad spike’ is too good of a coincidence.
‘Sunset forgetting I ever happened’ - Spike doesn’t get to live in the daylight. the sun (and the sunset) are both out of reach for him without the danger of dusting. He doesn’t fully feel like a true vampire anymore, but the human world won’t accept him either. In fact, his human life was so long ago that even the sun itself has forgotten William Pratt.
I also think Spike/ Jeff Buckley is a fitting parallel since, if I stick to major-canon events, Jeff’s unfortunate passing very early in his career would also fit roughly timewise with Spike’s death at the end of season 7.
The last unfinished album that Jeff struggled so hard to write? The one Spike wrote when he was getting over his ensoulment and entirely reevaluating who he is, and what that means for his music.
Unfinished final album? Yes. Unpublished? No.
Because when he accepted wearing that amulet, Spike had a pretty good idea he was going to die. So he did something a vampire never plans to do. He wrote a will.
If he’s dead, there’s no more worries about fame exposing his immortality right? So his music is published posthumously in the human world (with some bullshit about his talent going undiscovered by the industry during life).
And combined, the proceeds pay for Dawn’s college bills, and lift all of Buffy’s financial worries from her shoulders.
In the end, that’s Spike’s last gift to Buffy, his music, his poetry…and it finally allows her to rest.
#no disrespect to Billy Idol or Jeff Buckley lol#I just wanna steal their music for fic#cause I have not a single musical bone in my body#also feel free to let me know if u have any thoughts/ideas about the fic cause I'd love any suggestions <3#I've basically given away all the plot but who cares lol maybe I'll just delete this post before I come round to actually posting it#But if I put the idea out there now#then I just might have to commit#and if it never gets written? Then one day someone else who finds this post could take on the idea themself. I don't mind.#sharing is caring#and then at least the story would exist in some capacity#spuffy#spuffy band fic#buffy the vampire slayer#buffy summers#btvs#spike btvs#pearl's fic ideas#Spotify
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I don’t have a link but I saw a post along the lines of “EPIC fans trying to gaslight themselves into thinking Odysseus wouldn’t cheat (he does in the books)” and I nearly had a conniption.
Some people WERE arguing he was assaulted, but other people were saying it depends on the interpretation and saying he has a child with Circe and that he stays on the island with her for a year. I also saw someone say he was just lying about being assaulted on another post about it.
The Odyssey/EPIC fandom is so exhausting I’ve thought about blocking everything sometimes ngl. It’s so hard to filter out posts like that. But there’s so much amazing art and content about it I don’t want to stop seeing it.
No, like that's the struggle of it.
I Love Epic and I technically got into the Odyssey BECAUSE of Epic. But I'm a hardcore Odyssey girly. I adore it so much. I've read 8 translations at this point because I love it so much and it's fun for me! And Epic is in no way a replacement for the Odyssey (Jay even says that it's not! he's simply inspired by the Odyssey) and it feels like high quality fanfiction of the Odyssey (FUN! JOYOUS WHIMSY! I still like it! :3 ).
But holy shit, like, both Epic AND Tagamemnon fans can be so fucking exhausting. (I am a fan of both. I can say this.)
(Obviously I'm not talking about everyone. <3 I've made many friends and have met lovely people in both fandoms.)
Like while yes, Epic!Odysseus isn't coerced/raped by either of the goddesses, that's simply because of the fact that Jay simply felt like he wasn't well equipped to handle such dark topics to that extent. And I honestly respect him for that! He knows his limits with the story he wanted to tell and that's good! And in general I think he did a fantastic job handling the aspects of it he did touch on (Coercion with Circe's threatening in "There Are Other Ways" is done well imo.)
(ngl, I kind of take back what I said about "Not Sorry for Loving You". I think a lot of my reaction was initially from my fear of how fandom would react. But I've been delightfully surprised seeing how (for the most part) Epic Fandom has really come through to show the "fucked up-ness" of that song)
THAT DOES NOT MEAN THAT ODYSSEUS IN THE ODYSSEY IS A SHITTIER HUSBAND BECAUSE HE, IN THE ANCIENT TEXT, CANNOT SAY NO TO A GODDESS.
Greek Mythology isn't like Percy Jackson where 12 year old Percy beat Ares. (I was a PJO KID TOO!) It's not "Odysseus didn't try hard enough" fucking victim blaming btw because HE LITERALLY CANNOT REFUSE OR THEN HE'LL (AND HIS FRIENDS IN THE CASE OF CIRCE) WOULD DIE!!!
Like I wrote a whole ass essay on Circe's Situation (I feel so preachy and shitty about having to constantly bring it up but I will as much as I have to to get people to listennnn) and in general, if you can't see what's happening with Calypso, you've got your head up your ass and/or are just looking away because you don't like the actual implications of what's happening. For the main "gripe" I've seen with Calypso with how "He enjoyed her company at first", @lyculuscaelus has a great essay breaking that down.
And before? ODYSSEUS HAS NO LISTED CONCUBINES! And he brings up Penelope often in the Iliad!
And the whole "lying about being assaulted", I'm sorry but if someone is holding the "Men were so sexist that they couldn't possibly care about the women in their lives or have been victims" idea, then why would Odysseus willfully share that he was raped by women? Who, as they say, were viewed beneath him? Why would he lie about something that would put him in such a humiliating light?
Btw, Menelaus (sealy boy!!!) even says that he's being held captive by Calypso with what he learned from Proteus! Menelaus isn't known for telling stories!
I feel bad as like, I used to LOVE going into the tags and finding creators I haven't seen before and cheering them on! Art and Fics and yay! But like... It's sometimes so disheartening going in there and seeing nonsense or bad takes ;~;
Honestly, as much as I DO enjoy Epic, I think that hopefully once the hype dies down a lil, it'll chill out more :') We'll all be okay!
#aaaaaaaaaa#I've been meaning to write a#“Epic and Odyssey Odysseus both utterly adore Penelope. It's just that one is a modern musical and one is an ancient poem” essay thing#because like. I've also seen shit about how “I like Epic Better-” (fine. you do you.) “-because Odysseus actually loves Penelope in it”#WHAT?!#nuh uh. absolutely not >:(#odysseus#odyssey#epic the musical#odypen#anti madeline miller#anti circe#<-just in case#tagamemnon#greek mythology#Mad rambles#Mad rants#essay#kinda???#shot by odysseus#ask#anon#tele-GONE-y#I feel a bit bad. I hope I don't come off as like a “know-it-all” and/or like aggressive with these rants but I just get frustrated ;~;#tw rape mention
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Omg omg so since you said you're ok with suggestions. Do you think you could do Optimus x afab Reader who speaks spanish? The reason is because smth I CANNOT get out of my head is that Matrix of Leadership in Spanish is Matriz de Liderazgo.
Matriz also means womb.
So I can picture Optimus showing the Matrix to the reader (Bc its visible in most of his incarnations), and reader joking about showing him their "Matrix". ESPECIALLY bc reader can explain this is how humans reproduce, I feel like he'd be in awe!!
Hello! ❤️🔥
Uhhhhh, that's sound very fun to write!!!! But I am not familiar with exact meaning of AFAB since I'm still learning and I don't want to say/write anything absurd to cringe or upset readers. If you explain it's exact meaning (yes, I've just searched about it, but failed to understand), I will absolutely give it a shot!! (And though I don't know Spanish, I can get some help from AI haha. I think it wouldn't hurt anyone since I have no idea about this beautiful language.)
love youuuu!!! ❤️🔥
#optimus x you#optimus x reader#optimus prime x reader#transformers optimus#optimus prime#transformers x reader
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Timex
Daniel Cleaver x fem!Reader (18+)
✒️ - 12/25/2024 🔏 - 01/08/2025
⏳ - 5,563 words
⚠️CW - 18+ NSFW, oral stimulation (p in mouth), no p in v (yet), general smut, Daniel Cleaver and his sliminess (his presence deserves a warning)
✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧
📜 - A fairly new hire is getting ready for a very important meeting at her job as the co editor in chief at Pemberley Press. To her surprise, she seems to have lost her favorite wristwatch.
At work, she manages to find it ... on the desk of her most insufferable colleague.
Author's Note - First fan fiction posted to Tumblr, I cannot believe it's for this man. It is actually inspired by the fact that I lost my favorite watch just before Christmas - don't ask how my brain decided to write a fan fiction because of it. I did manage to find it while I wrote this so, that's a win for me. Yes, Frankie is inspired by Francis Abernathy from The Secret History. And yes, the presence of an author named Miles Finch does indeed imply that this fan fiction and this version of Daniel Cleaver do exist in the same universe as the 2003 Christmas comedy film, Elf, starring Will Ferrel. Our beloved Mr. Reed will be here soon, I promise. But I fear I must get this freak out of my system before I can focus on the other one.
✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧
“Chilly morning in London today, with a high of 4 degrees and a low of -1° tonight! Expect light flurries this evening with-” The cheerful English news reporter said in his routine chatter about the weather forecast. I poured out a decent serving of cat food for my sweet Argo and sat down to my own breakfast. Turning down the television volume and opening my work notebook, I reviewed the notes from the previous day regarding today’s very important meeting, with a very important author.
I furrowed my brows as I read the author’s scribbled name, Miles Finch, trying to remember where else I had heard of him outside of work.
My eyes drifted lower on the page to a different name that I had written down - one that made my heart race and my cheeks blush. Daniel Cleaver, my insufferably attractive colleague and co-editor in chief at Pemberley Press. Our boss, Mr. Fitzherbert, thought it would be some wonderful idea for us to work together preparing for this meeting; the loyal employee of several years teaching the new hire ‘all the way from Boston, Massachusetts’. Weeks spent working a little too closely with Daniel, all leading up to today. To be completely honest, it took its toll on me. One can only take so much of him and his arrogance.
And his smile … his eyes … his voice … his-
“Ugh,” I caught my mind wandering and stopped, nearly choking on my morning coffee. “Enough of that, (y/n).” I said to myself as I stood from the table.
I carefully chose a CD to play while I got dressed, settling on one burned by my friend back home. The first song, some obscure 80s pop tune, filled my room as I made my way to the closet.
“Miniskirt and blouse,” I pondered out loud, pulling the outfit from the rack. “Or, black suit dress?”
Eyeing both choices, I tried to decide which outfit would warrant the best response during the meeting. I looked again at the miniskirt momentarily, blushing as I recalled the … effect it seemed to have on my intolerable associate when I last wore it.
The way Daniel eyed me that entire day was undeniable. I had been rather used to his stares after 6 months of working with him, but that was different. The way he bit his lip as those icy blue eyes wandered to places they definitely shouldn’t…
“No,” I said quickly, dropping the skirt onto my bed. “Absolutely no distractions today. Suit dress it is.”
After finishing my outfit and makeup, I only had a few minutes before I had to leave. I gathered my things, listing off everything important: ‘notebook, car keys, bag, coat, scarf…’
I prattled off my belongings in my head as I stopped at my vanity one last time. ‘Necklace, rings, wristwatch-’ I named each item as I put it on, but-
‘Wristwatch…?’ I froze mid-list as I realized my favorite watch was nowhere in sight. I opened every drawer, brows furrowed as I searched all over the apartment. I thought of anywhere it could possibly be, and yet, still nothing.
I stopped and sighed at the new mess I had made in my hunt. Clothes and jewelry strewn over my unmade bed after my unceremonious rummage around.
‘I wore it yesterday.. I remember that,’ I thought to myself, stood amongst the disarray. ‘Then.. where did it go afterwards?'
Figuring it would be easily found on my desk at work, I relented. I took all my things and left the apartment, throwing on my scarf and coat once inside the elevator.
In the car, my mind drifted back to the watch. After earning this perfect job at Pemberley, I bought anything I wanted. Expensive jewelry, designer clothes, a new car - even my fancy apartment in London after relocating. I could probably buy 7 of the same basic black and gold Timex watch, but this one was special to me.
“I’m being quite honest, Frankie, I can't find it anywhere,” I sigh over the phone to my best friend. “I looked all over my apartment, all over my work desk, even asked our security guard if he’d seen it. I fear it’s gone.” I slouched a little in my desk chair as I came to my upsetting realization.
“Please, (y/n), it’s not that serious. It’s a small thing, I’ll buy you a new one if you like.” Frankie said, his voice as cool and unconcerned as always. Franklin Arkwright; assistant to the CEO of our partner publishing company back home in Boston. He was my oldest friend, and the one who managed to get me the job at Pemberley in the first place.
I stood from my chair and paced about my office, the phone cord pulling as I walked around my desk. “It’s not just a small thing, Frankie. You know how much I love that watch, and I don't enjoy losing my belongings.” My hand went to my (y/hc) hair as I sighed again. I turned around, going to the opposite side of the room when I accidentally locked eyes with him.
Daniel Cleaver’s office sat inconveniently right beside mine, both spaces walled completely with floor to ceiling glass (I preferred more privacy myself, but the sleek and modern look was just so in these days).
My heart quickened for a moment, sending a strange pulse through my chest as his blue eyes met mine, a smirk appearing on his face. I managed a smile back as he waved, still talking to whoever was on his own phone. He eyed me up and down as he always did, his gaze lingering on my choice of dress; the dress that I suddenly realized had such a low neckline.
I scoffed and looked away from his irritating stares, my eyes moving to his desk instead. Frankie continued on in my ear about something his mother had said as I scanned the organized mess of Daniel’s workspace. Stacked papers and folders, pens and pencils, a paper coffee cup, my watch, a stapler-
My watch?
My eyes widened at the undeniable sight of my wristwatch sitting on the desk of none other than Daniel fucking Cleaver. The black leather wristband and gold rimmed clock face was recognizable even from where I stood. I looked back up to him as he paced about his own office, talking away on his phone. He seemed either unaware that it was there, or he at least didn't care.
'How on earth did it get there?’ I thought to myself as I wracked my brain, finally remembering yesterday’s encounter.
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In the meeting room, Daniel leaned against the long table as I went over my checklist for a final time. “Right, the presentation is finished, I wrote up my little spiel. Do you have yours ready, Cleaver?” I asked and instantly rolled my eyes as I caught him staring where he shouldn’t. Again.
“Yes, yes, (y/ln), I’ll get on that straight away,” He said briskly, reluctantly meeting my eyes. I could tell he was very distracted, and likely hadn’t heard a word that I said.
“Daniel, please just know that if you fuck up this meeting and make a fool of me, I will have your head for it.” I said in a casual voice, returning to my written list.
“Noted. Thank you, (y/ln)” Daniel responded coolly. I caught his eyes wandering again and shot him a glare. Perhaps he felt bad for not listening to me, or more than likely, he was trying to play off his stares as he leaned off the table and walked closer.
“You know, (y/n), I never noticed how nice your watch is,” He said, tilting his head as he looked at the clock on my wrist. “I think I like it.”
I furrowed my brows at his out-of-place comment and looked at him skeptically. “Well, I do wear it everyday, Daniel. How have you not mentioned it before?” Daniel just shrugged in response, eyes still on my wrist.
“The gold suits you quite nicely,” He said pensively, almost as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud. Daniel gently reached out for my hand, and asked for a closer look. Confused, I set down my notebook and pen, taking the watch from my wrist. Our hands brushed momentarily as I set the watch in his palm, making my heart skip annoyingly. As he examined it, I went back to my list and finished going over everything for tomorrow.
Before I could say another word to Daniel, Mr. Fitzherbert had entered and asked for me. The last thing I remembered was taking my notebook and pen, and hurrying out - leaving my favorite watch with Daniel. Fucking. Cleaver.
✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧
“(y/n)...? (Y/N)??” Frankie repeated over the phone, taking me out of my memory. “Are you still there, babe?”
I let out a laugh and took a breath as I realized I was still on the phone with him. “Y-yea, I’m still here, Frankie.. But I think I should go. I, uhm, I found my watch.”
Without another word, I said goodbye and hung up the phone. Daniel had also finished his own phone call and was standing by the window, reading some documents. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose as I contemplated actually going over there. After all, it IS just a watch. But, it was still my favorite one.
I readjusted my dress and made my way to Daniel’s office, entering politely. “Afternoon, Mr. Cleaver,” I said with the nicest smile I could manage. “Today’s the day! Big meeting with Miles Finch. I hope you’re ready!”
Daniel flashed me a smile - that terribly charming smile of his. “Good afternoon to you, Miss (y/ln). To what do I owe this lovely intrusion?”
From the look he gave me I could tell, he knew what I was there for. My eyes went from him to my watch, sat right on his desk beside his computer, almost displayed like some kind of trophy. I lost my fake smile and relaxed, crossing my arms. “I’m here to see if you're prepared. And to take my watch back; I’ve been looking for it all morning.”
Daniel looked confused and taken aback by my statement. “Your watch..? (y/ln), you must be barking, I don’t have your watch.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and walked towards his desk. I wasn’t in any mood for his games today. “Yes, Daniel. This watch, it’s mine.” I reached out to take it, just as he bent over the desk and picked it up himself.
“Oh, this watch? Odd, what is it doing here? Are you sure it’s yours?” Daniel said while he examined it just like he did the day prior. I rolled my eyes at him and his antics.
“Yesterday.. The meeting room? You asked to see it and then I had to go.” I recalled briefly, still irritated with his little act. “I really have been looking for it all morning, I’ve been worried half to death.”
Daniel’s eyes widened in fake shock. “Half to death? God, (y/ln), it’s just a watch,” He said, turning it over in his hands. “Why do you wear it everyday? It's a bit worse for wear, isn't it? Scratches in the glass here, creasing in the wristband. And, oh dear, is that a crack? Surely, they pay you enough to buy a nicer one.”
I glared at him from the other side of his desk and huffed in anger. “It’s very special to me, Daniel. My dear friend, Frankie, gave it to me before I left home to move here. It used to belong to him; he knew I loved it so much,” I stopped myself and sighed. Something told me that it was futile to try and explain the emotional value of a wristwatch to someone like Daniel Cleaver. “It’s .. sentimental. Perhaps you’d understand if you had friends of your own, now I’d like to have it back please.”
The emphasis on my statement didn't seem to matter as Daniel just smiled to himself and looked back at my watch. “How dare you presume to know the status of my personal friendships,” He said after taking a gasp of fake offence.
I held my hand out for him to give the watch back, a silent plea for him to end this ridiculous nonsense. But to my confusion and irritation, instead of offering it back, he pulled back his sleeve and put it on. “You know, I think I'll hold onto it for you. Just for today, what do you think, (y/ln)?”
It was my turn to be taken aback now. “What, no- Cleaver, just give it to me,” I said, my already thin patience running thinner. “This isn’t grade school, what are we, confiscating each other’s belongings now..?”
Daniel said nothing as he walked around his desk and stopped in front of me - a little too close for a colleague. “You can come back and collect it at the end of the day. Stay later tonight.. If you want it back, then you’ll know where to find me, hmm?” He said, his voice patronizing. Yet, quiet and … suggestive. He was so close, I could smell his cologne - a familiar fragrance from Jo Malone. He lifted his hand and I held my breath, ready for him to do something deranged, like brush back my hair or caress my cheek. Hell, he was close enough to lean in for a kiss.
Instead, he looked over my shoulder at my watch on his wrist to check the time. “Well look at that.. It’s time to meet Miles Finch,” Daniel said with a quick smile as he stepped back to his desk to pick up some documents. According to the clock on his wall, he was right - ten minutes until 3pm. A few people from different departments even walked by Daniel’s office and into the elevator, clearly on their way to the meeting room.
Daniel walked past me quickly and I followed behind to retrieve my own things from my office, just as he stopped and turned back.
“Hot dress, by the way, (y/ln),” He started, making my cheeks blush red. “With a neckline that low, I’m sure you won’t even need your notes in order to convince them.”
I gasped and tried to interject as he made his way out to the elevator.
The meeting came and went, ending on a high note with Miles Finch agreeing to our proposed contract for his upcoming book series. It was truly a triumph; after weeks of hard work and preparation, it actually paid off. The entire meeting room filed out, talking happily and shaking hands with one another with a few minutes to spare before the end of the work day. I was approached numerous times by colleagues and representatives visiting from our New York location, congratulating me and Daniel on a job well done. As the building slowly emptied, I retreated back to my office and opened my computer to start on some extra work. I hadn’t forgotten about what Daniel said. And I certainly hadn't forgotten about my damned wristwatch.
There were five separate invitations to go out for drinks with everyone from the meeting. And I really did wish to attend. Perhaps for a chance to earn a spot within Miles Finch’s good graces (he was said to be a difficult man to please), but I declined every single one. “Such hard workers, you and Mr. Cleaver are. You make an excellent team, I’m quite glad to have hired you.” Mr. Fitzherbert said when he heard that Daniel and I wished to stay late to ‘get ahead’ on the next big project.
‘Oh yes,’ I thought to myself. ‘I'm sure we’ll be working very hard tonight.’ It was the only thought I had in my mind as the boss praised us. Checking my email for a final time before I got to work, I noticed a new message. The sender’s name made me sigh and curse as I clicked it open.
‘45 minutes, floor will be empty.
50 minutes, after George does his rounds, you know what to do.
-DC’
The wall clock ticked away at an agonizingly slow pace. A few times, I even caught myself instinctually turning my wrist to check the time, and cursing under my breath when I found nothing there. When the time finally arrived, George, the security guard walked casually past my glass-walled office. We exchanged polite waves and I watched him walk through the room and out, heading for the stairwell. I recognized my moment, and turned off my computer. I took my things as if I were ready to leave: packed my notebook and pen into my bag, gathered up my coat and scarf, and made the dreadful walk of shame to Daniel’s office door. I felt his eyes on me as I hesitated outside, wondering again if this was all really worth it. I knew I wasn’t just going to walk in, collect my trinket, and go. It would never be that easy with Daniel.
“About time, (y/ln), took you long enough to finally open the door. Having second thoughts?” Daniel said, without looking up from his computer screen.
“Actually, yes,” I confessed, putting my belongings down on the chair by the door. “Am I going to regret coming in here, Cleaver..?” I gave him a sincere look of worry. His expression visibly softened as he stood from his desk and walked over. He stopped in front of me, just like he had done earlier. Except this time, there was no one around to see us. No one to watch him do something deranged… like brushing back my hair, or caressing my cheek. Or..
“Daniel,” I whispered, pulling away when he leaned in. My hand went to his chest, ghosting against the bare skin where his dress shirt was left unbuttoned. “Please - don’t risk our positions, or our jobs, for this silliness.” Daniel responded with a soft smile as his hand went to my cheek, caressing it gently.
“It’s only a problem if we’re caught, (y/n).” Daniel began, his other hand trailing slowly up my side and to my waist. He pulled me against him and I stumbled a little, falling against Daniel’s chest and fully into his arms - right where he wanted me. “And if we are, which we won’t be, I’ll take the blame. It’s my idea after all. I’ll risk my position and my job… not yours.”
Somehow, Daniel’s own version of a sacrifice was endearing enough to make me blush furiously. I opened my mouth to protest, just to be met with his thumb gliding gently over my bottom lip. “It’s alright, (y/n),” He whispered with an amused smile on his face. He winked and I couldn't help but return the smile. Daniel backed away briefly, pulling me by the arm to his desk where I settled against it. He resumed his place in front of me, pulling me back into his embrace. “I’ve got it all figured out… and I've got you.”
I felt myself physically relax at Daniel’s words - more relaxed than I’ve ever felt while being with him. I raised my eyebrows at his statement, sighing against his lips. “You always have everything figured out, don't you Daniel?” Before he could give me one of his clever responses, I closed the gap between us and pressed my lips to his. Just to shut him up.
His hand settled on my hip, keeping me pinned against his desk. I let my own hands move up his chest, and over his shoulders. One hand rest on the back of his neck, while the other went up into his hair, getting tangled in his dark locks. He let out a moan against my lips, and I couldn't help my mischievous smile.
“Excuse my enthusiasm, (y/n),” Daniel began, pulling away only enough to form words. “But I have been fucking dying to get you like this since the day I met you.” It was my turn to be amused now. I smiled and bit my bottom lip, delighted to see him this flustered. “Oh, I can tell, Daniel,” The feeling of his growing erection against me was enough to know that he was serious. I let my hands fall from their work in his hair, dropping one to his shoulder and the other to the desk behind me. It rested beside Daniel’s left hand, my fingers ghosting over his. “To make a confession of my own, I’ve always found you rather attractive - hot as fuck, even. But your insufferable arrogance was often far to much for me to bear.”
Daniel laughed against my neck as he dipped down to kiss the sensitive skin there, earning a breathy moan from me. I moved my hand from the desktop, gliding over his hand and to his wrist, where I felt the undeniable outline of my watch. I quickly moved my hand up, tightening around his forearm as he nipped at my neck, hoping he wouldn’t get suspicious. “Daniel…” I moaned to him, making him hold my waist tighter in response. My other hand slid off his shoulder and down his back to distract him while I began to remove my watch from his wrist.
‘Almost…’ I thought and let out a sigh when I felt the leather strap slide from the small buckle. Daniel bit into my neck harder than he had before, and I gasped sharply. He paused, bringing his quest to cover me in love bites to a close. “Don’t stop, please,” I pleaded, nearly whining for him. Not only was I close to finally getting my watch back, but the physical contact actually felt too good to lose. I felt Daniel smirk against my lips as he pulled away from me completely, my hand drifting off his shoulder and lingering outstretched for him.
“You almost had me, (y/n),” Daniel said while he fastened my watch back onto his wrist. “Don’t make me restrain you, (y/ln). Play fairly and you’ll get what you came here for.”
I roll my eyes and groan, crossing my arms in front of me. “Fine, Daniel. What must I do to get my precious watch back?” Daniel put a hand to his heart and gasped.
“You wound me, (y/n), honestly,” He paced to the side of the desk, leaning on it bringing our faces inches apart once again. “I had hoped that what you wanted from me wasn't just your watch.”
“Daniel-” I scolded, as if he were a child. He was surely acting like one. He just laughed and held up his hands in surrender after taking a step away. “Alright, (y/ln), alright. I need you to do something for me. A favor, I suppose.” His voice dropped in volume as he finished. I chewed the inside of my lip, eyeing him cautiously.
“Like what? Take over a project for you? Cover for you while you run off to some broom closet or storage room with one of the interns?” Daniel approached me with that damned smile on his face again. The one that first made my heart race. The one that could convince me to do anything.
“Bold of you to assume I’d be running off with anyone other than you, (y/ln). But no, nothing like that,” He paused, seemingly thinking. His tongue traced his bottom lip as his eyes scanned over my face while his hand absentmindedly rubbed my thigh beneath my skirt. “Well, you are quite good with this mouth of yours.”
My eyes widened and my lips parted in my shock. ‘Oh, surely not.’
“I don’t suppose you mean I have a chance of talking my way out of this?” I asked, trying desperately to avoid what I knew he was implying. Daniel shook his head, still enamored by me as he resumed his kissing along my jaw and down my neck. “Come now, (y/n), don’t play innocent. It’s a poor act, and it doesn't look good on you.”
He kisses and roughly nips at a spot just below my jaw, making me crane my head back and sigh. He pulled away again and looked at me. I had never seen his blue eyes look so dark.
‘No. No. No way. Tell him no, say-’
“Fine,” I nodded to Daniel’s desk chair, telling him to sit as I pulled my hair back. I bit my lip to hide a smile as he scrambled to take his seat. I stole a pen off his desk and stuck it into my makeshift updo, securing it in place.
I left my spot on the front of the desk, rounding it to stand between Daniel’s legs. The outline of his cock was apparent even through his dark trousers as I lowered myself down between his legs. The only sounds for a moment were heavy breaths and Daniel’s zipper sliding down. He shifted in his seat, pushing his trousers down slightly. I took a breath and paused when I slid my fingers around the waistband of his underwear. I hesitated for a moment, making Daniel hum in amusement from above me. I looked up at him, eyes locked with his.
“You’re really doing this, (y/n)?” He said, surely meaning to challenge me. His arm was propped by his elbow on the armrest of the desk chair. My Timex watch sat, still fastened to Daniel’s wrist, looking almost like it was meant to be there. The gold hardware glinted in the low lights in the office and I felt my chest tighten at the thought of Daniel Fucking Cleaver keeping one of my most treasured possessions forever. “Of course I am,” I say, settling onto my knees and slowly letting my hands slide under Daniel’s dress shirt, up and down the sides of his torso. “I want my fucking watch back.”
Daniel nodded and readjusted himself in his seat, leaning back like a king on his throne. “Go on then Miss (y/ln). Use that pretty mouth of yours… take what you came here for.” I smiled back and rolled my eyes, letting my gaze settle on Daniel and his endearing grin. “Yes, right away, Mr. Cleaver.”
I slid my fingers into his waistband again and pulled them, no hesitation this time. My eyes widened a bit when his cock sprang free from its constraints. He was admittedly very large. Daniel let out a groan as I took him in hand and licked his tip playfully. I continued my teasing, enjoying the sounds of Daniel nearly whimpering.
“O-ohhh, (y/n).. enough of that, please.” He begged, dropping his left hand to my face. Daniel held my chin up with one, and with the other began to stroke his cock, positioning it in front of my mouth. “No more teasing if you want your watch back.” I nodded obediently, which pleased him.
“Now, (y/n), if you’d be so kind, just- ohhh, fuck,” Happy to quiet him, I took him into my mouth, going as deep as I comfortably could. I breathed slowly and deliberately, ensuring that I didn’t choke too severely.
I felt Daniel’s hand snake around to the back my neck and hold me, tangling into the hair at the base. I moaned as he began to guide my head back and forth; slowly and gently. I shut my eyes for a moment, focusing on my breathing again. He was so much … more than what I had experienced in the past, and I was not accustomed to it.
I felt Daniel move his hand from my chin and I opened my eyes slowly. His head was thrown back in ecstasy, his groans and whispers filling his office space. I pulled off his cock and trailed my tongue along the length of it, earning a hiss and a long moan of my name. I looked up again, hoping to catch his gaze and instead was met with the clockface of my watch on his wrist as his hand held the base of his cock. I stared at it before me, as I closed my lips around him again.
‘He’s doing it on purpose, surely,’ I thought as his moans became a bit louder.
“(y/n), fuck. I’m close, darling, so close-” Daniel groaned, his hold tightening on the back of my neck. I hummed and hollowed my cheeks as I took him, enjoying the sounds of his cries.
I glanced up through my eyelashes and watched as he reached his climax, finishing into my mouth. I shut my eyes, swallowing what I could as Daniel’s hold on my neck loosened completely and his hand fell while he relaxed.
“God, you are good Miss (y/ln). Fuck,” He groaned, fixing his clothes and redressing. I paused and patted his thigh gently, while I turned and spit the rest of his cum into the wastebin beneath his desk. Daniel watched as I casually stood and wiped at my mouth, rubbing off what remained of my lipstick. “Too much for you, darling?” He said, making me roll my eyes. I leaned forward, resting my hands on the chair’s armrests. My lips grazed Daniel’s tauntingly as I let my tongue glide over his bottom lip. “Is there anything else you require of me, Mr. Cleaver?” I asked with the best demure voice I could manage.
Daniel groaned again, seemingly close to giving into me. “(y/n), darling…” He whispered, holding my face gently. “I thought I told you the innocent act isn’t your thing. Besides, as badly as I need to bend you over and fuck you on this desk, George’s next round is going to start soon and I’m confident that you don’t want him to find us like that.”
I stood and let him stand from his chair. “How do you know the security guard’s patrolling routine so well?”
Daniel grinned. “My sweet, (y/n), why do you think?”
I didn’t give him an answer. Instead I scoffed at him and fixed the collar of my dress, crossing the room to pick up my belongings. “Oh, now I’ve earned the silent treatment have I?” Daniel leaned against his desk, watching me put on my scarf and coat. I failed to hide a smile when I watched him attempt to seem as though he wasn’t crying my name a moment ago. I crossed the room again, back over to Daniel and extended my hand wordlessly. He rolled his eyes and sighed, carefully removing the watch on his wrist.
He lowered it into my palm and I nodded. “Thank y-,”
“On second thought,” Daniel began, cutting me off and pulling my watch away again. “I think I’ll hold onto it a little bit longer. Just until tomorrow evening, that alright, (y/ln)?”
My cheeks went warm while I watched him put the watch into his pocket and put on his own coat. I huffed, admittedly like a child, and crossed my arms. “Oh, was I not good enough?” I asked, a little too loudly. He shook his head.
“Oh no, darling, you were wonderful. Too good for me to let this little game end right now. What do you say to … The Ritz? Tomorrow evening?” Daniel took his own things and walked to the door of his office. “I do owe you after all. I fear I’ve robbed you of a lovely night of drinks with our colleagues.”
I followed him out of the room and over to the elevator, waiting for the doors to open. “I'd say I've never been,” I confessed. “You do know you can ask me out to dinner without holding my wristwatch hostage, right?”
Daniel shrugged, sliding his arm around my waist as we watched the numbers of the floors descend. “Sure, but this is just more fun,” He leaned down, his lips grazing against my ear as he whispered, making my chest tighten. “It’s like getting back at you for those revealing outfits you’ve been wearing here - especially that little miniskirt you have.” I shivered as his fingers made gentle circles on my waist.
He lifted his head, and stood up straight just in time for the doors to open again. George was indeed on his second round of the empty building, having left the other security guard at the front desk. We waved goodbye and were met with a cold wind beyond the front doors of Pemberley Press, the flurries mentioned on the news this morning already making their appearance. I paused to button up my coat, as Daniel examined my Timex watch yet again.
“You know, (y/ln), I really do think this watch suits me nearly as well as it suits you.” He said, putting it back into the pocket of his trousers. I rolled my eyes and faced him. “Oh sure. Perhaps once we’re all done here you can get one of your OWN.” I heard Daniel’s laugh echoing behind me as I walked away from him. As I reached my car, I got inside and started it up wondering how on earth I was going to explain this situation to Frankie when I called him on the phone at my apartment.
✧─── ⋆⋅ ✧⋅⋆ ───✧
I hope you all enjoyed!! Potentially scheming a Part II at some point, but please let me know what you think!
#hugh grant#daniel cleaver x reader#love to my friends#this is for you <3#dw no mark darcy in this one#im sorry to the heretic girlies#i will write for mr reed soon as promised#please enjoy ... this guy in the meantime#colin firth#hugh grant fan fiction#Daniel Cleaver#bridget jones's diary#x reader#reader insert#hugh grant x reader
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Yes!! I absolutely understand what you’re saying and I agree pretty much. Like yes, it’s important to accept every nonhuman identity, and I don’t think the people who experience nonhumanity this way are necessarily “fakers” or “being nonhuman wrong” or are less serious about it than others, but also there seems to be an obvious difference between how these types of nonhumans experience the identity (as in more of a metaphorical, aesthetic, or symbolic way) vs how other nonhumans experience their identity. It also seems like these types of nonhumans make up a large portion of the community, so then you end up with this weird limbo where the therian community is both incredibly diverse and ridiculously homogeneous. Like, I remember making a post a few days ago about how there’s this sort of specific “dog therian aesthetic” that is super popular in the community, and it kindof leaves out the experiences of other people. It’s also interesting seeing this current clash in the community about how far away and distinct therians and other nonhumans are from being human in any way, and yet from what I’ve seen there is a lot more human influence on people’s identities than most of us realize.
Again, I don’t really want to say that nonhuman identities aren’t nonhuman if they’re created or influenced by emotions or if it’s identifying symbolically or metaphorically (even if the one identifying doesn’t realize it) because my dog theriotype very much still is/was influenced by emotions, specifically grief, but also… I still… researched? Like my dog theriotype is still one I was questioning before I experienced grief. I think one of the most confusing things about interacting with the therian community is going into it thinking that research of theriotypes and introspection was going to be a major focus for everyone over a year ago when I awakened and now im here and its… not really like that for a lot of people? And im not trying to be elitist about it and say like “oh you actually have to know 5 billion facts about your theriotype or you’re not valid, you have to know exactly which clade and genus your theriotype is from and if you cannot say their scientific name in perfect latin obviously that means you’re faking” because that would obviously be stupid but ALSO… if you’re supposedly a coyote therian, and all you’re basing it off is just “well I feel like this so I must be this”, how likely is it that you’re actually another small wild canine? Maybe you’re really a jackal, or a culpeo, or a short-eared dog, or a dingo, or a carolina dog, or some other canine no one’s ever heard of but because you didn’t care to research you’ll never know. How many therians have the wrong theriotype because of this?
I also feel like the community should be more accepting of temporary nonhuman identities… like, if you’re identifying as an animal because of emotions of feeling hurt, betrayed, angry, lonely, etc. and you heal from that, will the identity then disappear? We should at least be open to the possibility, because it’s not like identity is set in stone till the day we die. And there’s nothing wrong or bad or stupid with identifying as an animal because of these things, even if it’s seen as “out of the norm” for things like therianthropy. But like… I also understand what you mean by saying that these people don’t exactly understand what it means to be animal… so it makes me wonder, do we need a new term for this phenomenon, or would that be too much? Maybe just more encouragement to research and do actual self reflection?
LIKE… I WANT TO REITERATE THAT I GET IT. I really do get it. Sometimes I read things from a therian and I just shake my head like… is that really all you think it means to be an animal? And I’m so worried about talking about this in depth with most others in the community because I don’t want people to think I’m gatekeeping yknow?
I also think that some of the general negative ideas about humans and humanity that circulate in the community inadvertently discourage people from questioning their identity from time to time and realizing that they may be human or even partially human, or even discussion about partially human identities or metaphorical/symbolic identities like the ones described here. It’s another phenomenon that can be classified into what you described — following the masses and seeking community, even if that means misinterpreting a part of yourself. It’s like so many of us in the community are in a race to be “more nonhuman” than everyone else, and to denounce anything to do with humans and humanity even if that means denying a part of your nonhuman identity and how it intertwines with humanity. It’s not saying that we are all inherently human, but rather that it’s okay if your identity has ties to humanity or even if it’s fully human.
Conclusion i guess… I think there needs to be more focus on actually reflecting on your identity which is why I was drafting a post to “redefine” therianthropy to encourage this… as well as more awareness of therianthropy that is more than just psychological, spiritual, or physical. Like, overall I think it’s fine for people to metaphorically or symbolically be an animal and maybe having more awareness of this will help people understand and define their experiences more? Instead of all of us being lumped together when many of us experience therianthropy very differently? I don’t know… I really don’t know… I’m not sure it would be a good idea anyways because there’s already a lot of words that mean nearly the same things but just slightly different.. I feel like I see a coining post every week lol /lh .
(I hope this all makes sense and I hope I understood your points correctly lol, this is just mostly additional ramblings that I thought of in relation to all of this)
not take but I think nearly 90% of therian identities are at least somewhat subconsciously (or consciously) affected by emotional states and how the heart feels through the logical filter of the mind (like.. wanting unconditional love is clearly a canine thing, wanting respect and space is a feline thing, wanting to be feared and yet soft is like some big cat thing.. etc.. no? The stereotypes still are ever so present)
but idk man
#marimo yips#therian#therianthropy#therian community#sorry this took hours to write 💔#i was in the trenches
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